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peakyswritings · 1 year

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Story share - Final chapter

Summary: After months of loss, fear, grief and anger, it’s time to make a choice. But some choices are a bit too hard to make.

Warnings: death, violence, mention of miscarriage, bad language.

This is the final chapter of @zablife ‘s story share! Thank you for coming up with this wonderful idea, it was lovely to participate and to see so many amazing writers create something this beautiful!Thank you @cillmequick for the last chapter! I’m sorry for being so late and I hope this will be worth the wait🤍

Gif credit: @thesoldiersminute

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES

PUT YOUR FAITH IN ME

Five days later

It was a beautiful day. For once, the sun was shining above Small Heath, and it seemed almost ironic that it had to be on that day.

But she would’ve liked to be buried on a sunny day. She had always despised the bleak and muggy weather of Birmingham. Tommy stood there, the smell of grass filling his nostrils, bringing back memories of a distant time. Of a simpler life. The chill in his bones had become almost unbearable, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or because of the name carved in the stone in front of him.

(Y/n) Shelby.

The coffin had been buried up on a hill. No cemetery, no religious ceremony, no speech. Just a bunch of people watching silently as the dirt covered the wooden surface.

There wasn’t much to say anyway.

Now Tommy stood there alone, hands clasped in front of him, eyes closed. The silence became heavier and heavier with every minute, every second that passed, marked by the ticking of his pocket watch. So heavy that it seemed to him that if he listened carefully enough, he’d hear the sound of the blood rushing through his veins.

Just five more minutes.

He stayed still, as if a single move could distract him from whatever he was trying to concentrate on. He could feel the tension from his jaw to the tips of his fingers, passing through the back of his neck, expanding down his back and up behind his eyes. He felt it in every muscle, every nerve. His heart was pounding, and a ferocious vice gripped his stomach, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

Steps.

Tommy’s eyes shot open.

Slow, measured steps coming closer. The steps of a person who doesn’t need to rush, because everything they want is right there before their eyes, waiting for them to reach out and take it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy could see a white flag being planted in the ground. He didn’t raise his gaze from the grass beneath his feet as a tall figure stopped next to him. Neither of them talked, as if to see who would break first, a sick game of power and dominance.

Give him what he wants.

Luca Changretta slowly took off his hat, then he ran two fingers inside the collar of his shirt to loosen it up a bit. Each one of his movements was precise, even calculated, filled with a calmness that was meant to unnerve.

“I’ve come to offer my condolences, Mr. Shelby.”

Despite his efforts to show courtesy and civility - no matter how false and forced -, his voice sounded as sharp as sandpaper. There was an hint of pleasure in it that he couldn’t hide, and not the slightest trace of sympathy. He shook his head, letting out a sigh. “It was such a tragedy.”

The Italian rested his eyes on his enemy, studying him, trying to catch the slightest shift in his demeanour, eager to find another weak spot to hit.

Tommy cleared his throat, an attempt to keep a stoic expression on his face. His imperturbable facade had never felt so fragile, the walls he had learned to build around him were moments away from coming down. He mustn’t allow it.

“But that’s not the only reason you’re here, is it?”

A strange gleam crossed Luca’s eyes, something sick and twisted, that made them look almost reptilian. “I’m here to make terms for peace.”

Peace. As if there could ever be peace after what he’d done. But Tommy knew that Luca didn’t really care for peace. He would’ve buried them all, if given the chance, Solomons and Shelbys. He wanted to to be sure that he had the upper hand. That they knew he had the upper hand. That they knew he had won, and that if they were still walking on this Earth, it was because of his mercy.

“You don’t want to bury the rest of your family, do you?”

It wasn’t an empty threat. Despite having met him no more than a couple of times, Tommy had come to understand that Luca wasn’t the type to waste time with his words, and that he wasn’t above hurting people who had nothing to do with that situation just to get what he wanted. And Tommy knew what was that Luca wanted.

If I’m dead, there’s no reason for you to protect Alfie.

His wife’s words resounded in his mind, her voice clear as day. She was there, whispering in his ear, guiding him towards a way out. He had to trust her, to take her hand and follow where she led.

Because you’ll need to protect your family.

He blinked, nodding to himself, trying his best to convince himself that there was no other way. He could’ve killed Luca in that very moment, he could’ve pulled out his gun and put a bullet in his brain. But he knew that he hadn’t come there alone, he wasn’t a fool. Killing him meant dying with him, and Tommy needed to stay alive.

Luca stared at him intently, trying to hold back the smug grin making its way on his face. Tommy Shelby had refused to bend, and for that he would break.

“He’s in Margate.”

Five days earlier

“I have a plan”

(Y/n) walked over to where the two men were sitting, catching their attention. They exchanged a meaningful glance, both curious and nervous about what she had to say.

“What plan?” Tommy asked, raising his eyes on her.

“We’ll give Luca exactly what he wants.” She said, laying her eyes on her brother.

Alfie shot his head towards his sister, widening his eyes as the realisation hit him. “(Y/n), treacle, are you out of your fucking mind?” He bellowed. “I know I can be a pain in the ass, right, but don’t you think that sending me to my fucking death is a bit excessive?”

(Y/n) calmly rested with her hips against the desk behind her, unfazed by Alfie’s reaction. “Just listen to me.”

“Go on.”

It was Tommy who had talked. From the way he was looking at her, she understood that he was actually interested in what she had to say, and that he was ready to trust her.

And he did trust her, with all his being, with every cell in his body. He would put his life in her hands, even after all that had happened between them.

(Y/n) looked at her brother again, watching as his skeptical expression slightly softened. He just nodded, silently telling her that he was ready to listen.

“As far as we know, Luca doesn’t know I’m alive.” She started to explain. “The men he sent after me are dead, no one survived to tell him what really happened last night.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, already imagining where she was going.

“When you got to the safe house, you killed them all. But it was too late.”

Alfie stared at an indefinite point, playing with the rings on his hand as he slowly put the pieces together. He was starting to understand why she was saying that, but it seemed like it wasn’t the same for Tommy, who looked at her with furrowed brows.

“Why?”

“Because if I’m dead, there’s no reason for you to protect Alfie. If I’m dead, your job is to protect your family, because everybody knows Luca will go after them as well.”

She met her husband’s gaze, and she could tell that his mind was already working without a stop, analysing every option, trying to detect a flaw that could possibly blow up their plan.

“You’ll bring him to Alfie.” She continued, looking him in the eyes as if to convince him that she knew what she was saying, that she had already thought about everything. “And when he gets here, we will be ready.”

Tommy shook his head, taking a few seconds to evaluate the situation. It wasn’t a bad plan, quite the opposite, but it needed to be refined. “He’s not going to believe this. He’ll want proof.”

“How about a funeral?” Alfie stepped in, spreading his arms.

“Yeah, that would be perfect.” (Y/n) nodded towards his brother. “We can’t follow the Jewish tradition, of course, but I doubt Luca will care or even notice.”

Her eyes went back to Tommy, who looked unusually nervous. “You won’t have to tell him anything, he’ll already know. He’ll have men watching your every move. He’ll be the one to come to you.”

“How can you be so sure?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Because you’ll be at your weakest.”

Tommy stayed silent, still not totally convinced. He was aware that it was the only chance they had, but thinking about arranging his wife’s funeral was so grotesque that it made him sick to his stomach. He thought he had lost her, and now that she was back with him even the though of her death was enough to make him lose his mind. But he had to keep his head clear.

(Y/n) walked over to him and crouched in front of his chair. She took his hand in hers, not taking her eyes off of him. “Love, I know it’ll be hard.” She whispered. “But we have to at least try.”

His jaw clenched for a moment and it took all his willpower to put his emotions aside and let his reason guide him. Even his instinct told him that it could work, and it was rarely wrong. That was their only shot.

He cleared his throat, slightly shaking his head. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

One week later

Tommy looked at his pocket watch for the third time in ten minutes, standing in front of the window overlooking Margate’s beach. The sun had been obscured by dark clouds and the sea had turned so grey that it was impossible to tell where the sea line started and the sky ended.

Finally, a dark figure came in sight, followed by an escort of ten armed men. Despite everything, he had been outnumbered. Tommy sighed, checking the gun in his coat. He turned to face the room, where everybody was looking at him, waiting for instructions. Arthur, John, Finn, Polly, Micheal. The Peaky boys, the men who worked for him. Alfie. The weight of responsibility heavily bore down upon his shoulders, but he couldn’t let it crush him.

“(Y/n)’s upstairs, right?” He asked Alfie, who only nodded. He was comfortably sitting on his chair, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t really worried, but everyone could tell it was just a facade.

Tommy cleared his throat, taking a few steps forward. “Alright,” he started. “Whatever happens, do not fire without my signal, is it clear?”

He waited for everyone to agree before continuing. “He’s going to be here at any moment. Be ready and follow my orders.”

There was a moment when everybody stayed silent, preparing for what was to come, or secretly praying, or making their peace with the fact that someone was going to die soon, and that it could be them. They didn’t know the whole plan, they had decided to blindly put their trust and their lives in the hands of the man who had guided them up to that point.

Then Luca Changretta and his men broke in.

The Italian walked into the room followed by his men, a grin plastered on his face as he looked at the man he had been looking for the whole time.

It was a matter of seconds before he realised that Alfie was not alone. That the Shelbys and their men were all there, waiting for him. The grin started to disappear from his face as he took a look around the room.

“Hello, mate.” Alfie got up from the chair, spreading his arms. “It’s been a long time, eh?”

Luca blinked, turning to look at Tommy. “What does this mean?”

Tommy didn’t answer his question. He just looked at him, fighting the urge to laugh in his face. Changretta pulled out his gun and walked up to him until they where face to face, pointing it at Tommy’s head, causing the men to cock their guns. Tommy raised his hand, a silent warning not to shoot.

“I asked you…” He growled. “What does this mean?”

Before he could answer, another person entered the room. Tommy’s eyes widened as (Y/n) made her way into the living room, a loaded gun in her hands. He shook his head, as if to tell her to go back to her room, but he knew it was too late. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted her not to interfere, she way way too proud and stubborn to just stand back and watch. And she wanted revenge for what he did to her.

“Lower that fucking gun.” She demanded, walking closer to him under everybody’s incredulous eyes. She knew her husband and brother were looking at her, silently begging her to go away, because that wasn’t part of the plan. But she didn’t care. The only thing she cared about was putting a bullet between his eyes. The gun was heavy in her hands and it brought back the memories from the safehouse, where she had been forced to use it after so much time.

Luca took a few steps back and lowered his gun. unable to hold back a look of surprise at the sight of her. But then a stronger, way more dreadful realisation hit him. His men hadn’t moved a single muscle.

He furrowed his brows, inquiringly looking at them.

“You see, all the blood relatives you brought with you from New York, they’re all dead, Mr. Changretta.” Tommy intervened, the shadow of a smirk growing on his face.

“And these men here…” He pointed at Luca’s men. “They work for money, for the highest bidder. They now have new orders.”

“Is that right?” Luca slowly turned towards his men, who uncomfortably shifted in their place, lowering their heads to avoid looking at him. “Is that right?” He repeated, slightly raising his voice in an imperious tone. Again, no answer.

“And you, Matteo?” Despite his efforts to keep his composure, his voice started to shake.

Matteo, who had once been his right hand, didn’t even have the decency to tell him that he had betrayed him.

Luca turned around again, looking at Tommy with falsely impressed expression. But his eyes let all of his emotions show. Betrayal, despair, anger. Fear. He raised his gun again, a last desperate attempt to get out of there alive, rejecting the knowledge that it was over, that he was going to die there, alone. In a fraction of a second, Alfie pulled out his gun and fired.

Without complaint, Luca fell to the ground.

A month had passed since that day. When (Y/n) went back to the Shelbys, she was scared that the family wouldn’t forgive her. In their place, she didn’t know if she’d forgive herself. But against all expectations, they welcomed her back, happy that everything had turned out for the best.

As for her and Tommy’s marriage, there was a lot to fix. Too many secrets had been raising walls between them, keeping them apart despite the closure. They couldn’t pretend that all of those things they had been through didn’t happen, and they couldn’t forget them and start again either. So they had chosen to begin right from that point, where everything seemed to be wrong and hopeless, and try to make it work. They could do it, as long as they kept in mind that they had each other.

And it was working, but it wasn’t a straight path. It was a winding road, full of turns and obstacles, and it would take time and patience to get to the end of it.

Because when she closed her eyes, she could still feel the weight of the gun in her hands and see the blood, hers and those men’s, and hear the screams, hers and theirs. Because she knew she had hurt Tommy, and he didn’t deserve it. Because the thought of the child that they didn’t get to have was so painful that it made it hard to breathe. Because the cause of all that pain had a face and a name, and she couldn’t rest knowing that person was still out there, unpunished.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, eh?” Tommy sat next to her on the couch, distracting her from her thoughts. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him and inhaling her scent.

He knew that she was being tortured by something, and it wasn’t just the memories. It was a thought, maybe, or an idea. But he also knew that there was no way of forcing her to express it, that he had to be patient and wait for her to be comfortable enough to tell him. That part of her bothered him sometimes, but then he remembered that he was just like her. They were similar, in that sense. Lately he’d been finding out that they were even more similar than he thought.

“It’s still not over, Tommy.” She said enigmatically, staring at some indefinite point.

“What do you mean?” He furrowed his brows, turning to look at her. Changretta was dead, all of the Shelbys were alive, Alfie was alive, they were safe and together, for the first time in years no one wanted to kill them.

“I’ve still got unfinished business with someone.”

Tommy hesitated for a moment, starting to understand who she might be referring to, but still refusing to admit to himself that they weren’t at peace yet. “With whom?”

“Tatiana Petrovna.”

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

#zablifestoryshare #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic

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purplekiwis · 3 years

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OMG YES! Damaged goods blurb! Can you do a fluff one where one of them is sick with seasonal flu and the other has to take care of them, but they're being stubborn about it because that's just what they do and how they are 🤧

Okay, okay... here she is! It's a bit meh I think, but I hope you like it! 🥰

Harry is sick and grumpy, and Y/N takes care of him (from the Damaged Goods AU)

Harry feels miserable.

He’s worse than miserable, really,

because he has a cold… or is it the flu?! He has never known to spot the differences between the two, but he recognized all of the early signs, of course...

As per usual, it started with nothing but a sore throat one morning when he woke up, that ended up lingering throughout the whole day, then came a headache, and the tiredness, and the chills…

It wasn’t so unbearable at first… but the symptoms only kept getting worse and worse as the hours went by, to the point of leaving him with no choice but to skip his classes in favor of staying in bed… suffering.

The worst part about it? He wasn’t even suffering at home – where his mom could be taking her lips to his forehead every so often to see if he had a fever, and bringing him bowls of soup and fruit cubes on that same familiar bedtray that had accompanied him throughout all his periods of sickness.

Mom would also be making sure he stayed hydrated and took his medicine in time... which by the way, he wasn’t taking any. Logically speaking, Harry knew he should have gone to a pharmacy by now, to get something to make him feel better, but how? When he couldn't even muster the will to get up and go downstairs to fill the empty water bottle perched on his nightstand.

He couldn’t move.

Every single inch of his body hurt.

And now he was starting to get shivery under his bedclothes... for fucks sake.

If only he had Pepper, his spaniel mutt puppy, around to snuggle and keep his body cozy and warm like a hot water bag... then perhaps Harry would've been in a better mood. Yeah, definitely. Pepper would've let him bury his snotty face into its soft fur, and not even think to complain if its owner left a puddle of guck all over said fur.

But well, Pepper isn't there.

And being sick sucks.

Especially because Harry really wants some cuddles... and it hasn't been helping his case whatsoever that in this trying day of illness, his mind has done nothing but think of Y/N.

Pondering over what outfit she must have worn that day and what she might be up to while he’s laying there on his deathbed. He also wonders if she has noticed his absence, and if so… if she’s worried about him.

He huffs once he checks his phone again and realizes there are still no messages from her. She doesn’t have to check on him. He knows that, but he can't help that he likes to be cared for sometimes… and as it turns out illness has a tendency to turn him into a big, needy baby... who really wants to have Y/N taking care of him. It would be so good. She could play with his hair the way he likes, give him forehead kisses, hold his hand…

Harry sighs out loud. Her company would be even better than Pepper's, he believes... although Harry isn't so sure Y/N would enjoy having his snot on her as much as his trusty pup would, but that’s beside the point.

It’s even more beside the point because he knows she's not coming to see him.

She’s mad at him, he recalls now. Stupidly so, if he's allowed to think that - he did nothing wrong, after all. She asked him for a “brutally honest opinion” on a design work she was doing for one of her classes, and he simply gave her what she asked for, plain as that. But of course, then she didn’t like what he had to say and got sulky. Just girls being girls, he guesses…

Harry should've known better than to think that would stop her from coming to see him, though. His girl was a little box of surprises, after all... a true master in the art of keeping him on his toes.

She showed up only half an hour after she was done with her classes... softly knocking on his door before poking her head inside with a smile, only for her jaw to drop in shock at the absolute misery that oozed from his pores.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked sickly, almost comically. Harry could have laughed at it if he wasn't so utterly lethargic. “What- what are you doing here?”

“Well, what do you think?” The girl huffed, shutting the bedroom door behind her and heading towards the end of the bed to get a good look at him, hands on her hips. “Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Here I was, going about my day thinking you had slept in for being a bum, only to find out through your friends that you were unwell.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his downright amusement at her worried state. Y/N was worried about him? Well then, perhaps her irritation had passed and she had forgiven him… which meant maybe he’d get to have those cuddles he wanted so bad. “I thought you were mad at me?” He poked, eyebrows arching teasingly the best they could with the little energy the muscles on his face could muster.

“Well, I was and am now even more.” She punctuated. “But I still care, obviously. How am I supposed to leave you by yourself when you look like that?” She put down the bag she was holding at the edge of the bed and kneeled next to it on the floor.

“Look like what?” He frowned again. “All snotty and gross?”

“Precisely… and an awful lot like Rudolph the reindeer as well.” Y/N added, with a soft pat to the tip of his swollen, red nose.

Harry smiled at that, right before his eyes fell on the bag over his bed. “Did you go to the store to get those creepy sheet masks you wanted?”

“Huh?” She muttured confused, before noticing where he was looking at. “Oh no, um… these are just some things I got for you. Just vitamins and those gummies for when you have a sore throat, and also uh…” Y/N's cheeks went a little hot. “I got some chicken soup from the buffet restaurant as well, you know… the one next to the drug store. I thought it might do you good…”

“You went to get all that stuff for me?” Harry asked, Y/N hummed happily in confirmation, her eyes gleaming with tenderness. “Y/N... you shouldn't have. That shit is so expensive, and I'm fine, really. It's just a cold. You dont have to worry, let alone take care of me.”

“No offence, but I think I do.” The girl challenged his statement, picking up the halfway used toilet paper roll placed on his nightstand. “For a start, you shouldn’t even be using this to blow your nose. It’ll only irritate your skin and make it more sore.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “That’s such a mum thing to say…” He grumbled in attempt to mask the fact that the secret big, needy baby in him was loving every single bit of the mom talk, and the same applies to when Y/N clicked her tongue chastisingly once he stubbornly snatched the roll off her hand and pulled out some more paper.

She took the chance that he had moved his arm to move a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his pillow. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” She asked, lovingly running her digits through his unwashed curls. They felt a little waxy and knotty in her hands, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest. She just wanted to make him feel better in any way she could. So she kept playing with his hair, scratching at the roots and combing her fingers through his strands just the way she knew he reveled in - only breaking contact once she was almost certain that he had fallen asleep on her... However, as soon as Y/N began to pull her hand away to check her phone, Harry let out a whine and bumped his forehead against her wrist, in a silent request for her to keep going. “You're such a baby sometimes…” Y/N whispered, proceeding to fulfill his wish.

“Mhm... your baby.” He sighed happily.

Y/N smiled to herself at the state of pure bliss Harry was in. So utterly distracted by the slow puffy nature of his breaths, that she almost didnt notice that his droopy eyes had opened and were now fixed on her. He cleared his throat painfully. “Y/N... can I have one of those gummies you got? My throat hurts and I really want to try one.”

Y/N let out a tiny chuckle at the pleading tone he'd used, nodding as she got up to grab the bottle from the bag. She threw it at him playfully to catch midair, knowing that his reflexes were outstanding. “Ohh these seem nice. I love lemon and honey flavored shit.” He told her whilst inspecting the label.

“Yeah?” Y/N couldn’t help but to grin, feeling quite proud of herself for picking the right flavor. But her smile quickly melted into an expression of concern once she watched Harry crack open the bottle and carelessly throw a bunch of gummies into his mouth. “Harry! What are you- that’s not candy! You can’t eat them by the handful!”

“Oi, chill out… it’s just gummies. What wrong could it do?” He asked as he blithely chewed them. Words coming out garbled since he was speaking in between a mouthful.

“Oh, I don't know, perhaps there could be anesthetics in them... but who knows? It was just a thought.” Y/N ironized.

“Really?” He made a wry face similar to hers, inspecting the label closer. “Do you think we can get high on this shit?” He smirked, still chewing as he rolled the container around to check the ingredients in the back. “Cause I'm not gonna lie, that sounds like a pretty good afternoon plan to me...” He half joked, cracking the bottle open again and dropping a couple more gummies in his palm.

Y/N heaved at the suggestion. “I think it’s more likely that you get a terrible bellyache, and we end up in the ER...”

“You really think so?” Harry asked teasingly, taking another gummy to his mouth.

“Okay, that's enough. Give me that.” Y/N demanded, pushing for him to pass the container, but all he did was shake his head with a mischievous, defiant smirk. The girl rolled her eyes at him. “You know what? Fine.” She shrugged. “Eat as many as you want. Can't wait to watch you shit the bed once those anesthetics give you a loose bottom.”

He chuckled at the warning, amused. “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you come get them from me?” He questioned, but before he could prepare himself Y/N jumped on the bed to try and take the bottle away from his hands, what forced him to abruptly sit up and hold it over his head just so she couldn’t reach it from where she sat. “That was... real cute. Is that all you got, hm?”

Y/N huffed and crawled over his legs until she was practically on his lap. Seeing right through his facade once he happily handed off the gummies without putting up a fight and wrapped his arms around her middle to pull her in for a hug instead. “You must think you're so sly, don't you?” She mumbled in question, going back to petting his hair. “If you wanted a cuddle, you could’ve just said so… I don't mind your germs.”

“I was trying to behave to avoid getting you sick, actually…”

“Yeah right...” Y/N grumbled, dropping her head on his shoulder for a moment. “But I guess, since you've already passed me the germs and all... might as well just give me a kiss, no?” She proposed shyly, waiting for Harry to make the move. He did, pulling away slightly and placing his lips in hers softly. “Mm, more.” She pouted.

“Greedy.” He joshed, pecking the girl's lips again, and again... and once more for good measure. The damage was already done, after all... they might as well just keep doing it. “I feel disgusting, though. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve at least taken a shower and brushed my teeth. Can’t believe you still want to kiss me when I am like this.”

Y/N scratched at the frizzy hairs of his nape. “I promise you don't smell or look nearly as bad as you think you do… and you taste like lemon and honey so, that’s nice.” Harry distrustfully scrunched up his nose at her allegation, sniffing up some in the process before his digits rushed to grab some more toilet paper. He took it to his nose, blowing noisily. “Alright, snotty boy…” Y/N laughed, swiftly crawling off his lap. “How about I go downstairs to plate up our soup while you pick a movie for us to watch as we eat? It can be one of those “guy movies” and all, I promise I won't complain... today only, cause I'm giving you privilege for being sick.”

His eyes strayed towards you with interest, the lower half of his face still covered behind the poorly ripped toilet paper sheets. “I was actually thinking more like a musical or a pixar movie, maybe?”

“God, Harry.” Y/N gasped in awe. “I swear I've never felt more attracted to you in my life. Snot and everything.”

#I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT #IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT HONESTLY #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #damaged goods #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x yn #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction

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a-big-apple · 2 years

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Ok I have to go off about Luisa’s look for a minute because I’ve been watching Encanto daily (sometimes twice a day) in that honeymoon phase of wanting to see every detail and I’m quietly taking notes on her outfit so I can make it for myself and I have a lot to say about it

So it’s clear her whole look is about practicality, right, she’s sweet, she’s femme, but she has a lot of manual labor to do on the daily and her whole self-worth is riding on doing it well. So everything she’s got going on is supporting that goal!

Her hair: gorgeous, I would pay so much money to see it down, but she can’t afford to have it in her face or in the way. So she’s got it braided on the side, which is pretty and decorative but also a braid can sometimes hold onto your little short tendrils that would pop out of a regular ponytail, and we know she has some little tendrils!

Also, the bun! It bounces like it’s not super tight, so probably she’s not taking a ton of time in the morning to get it precise--again, it’s a practical choice, she’s working out before the coffee’s even ready. A quick bun is up off her neck, out of her face, nothing dangling that’s gonna get caught on the bottom of a church or whatever. She has a nice thick ribbon for it too, because all that hair is probably pretty heavy.

While I’m on this screenshot, her earrings: plain gold studs, pretty small! The Madrigal women overwhelmingly have dangly earrings, but once again, Luisa’s gone for something more practical that’s not going to get caught on anything.

Also while we’re here, her bracelets! Here’s where I’m treading lightly and doing a lot of googling, because I have no particular knowledge of Colombian textile arts (so if somebody reading this does, please feel free to correct me!). Based on some searching (specifically what I found here and tried to cross-check a bit), I think these cuffs are modeled after ones woven from cane fiber, like the Zenú vueltaio hats we see here and there in the movie and which have been mentioned in some of the talk in blu-ray extras and online about Colombia-specific details.

And each side is one bracelet, all the rings attached to each other! Another practical choice. If cane fiber hats can stand up to the elements, then so can these cuffs. They fit snugly and don’t dangle, and they don’t look fresh and new either, she’s been working with these on for a while.

Okay, back to this screenshot for a sec to talk about her top

IL OVE THAT THEY EVEN PUT IN THE SEAMS! A seam down the center back, including the collar, and seams where the sleeves attach! And look at the beautiful texture of that fabric, it looks like linen (or maybe cotton) to me, which is another great choice for hard work in a warm climate. It breathes, it’s hard wearing, and it’s white so it’s easy to bleach stains out of. Also the embroidery and ribbon on the trim around her collar really gets me, what a beautiful little textural detail, geometric shapes just like on her bracelets and her skirt along with a lil pop of color. Like all the Madrigals’ clothes, this was made specifically for her and with care, and it’s another place where she can get in a bit of decoration without it feeling too frivolous for her work.

This piece also has very subtle little buttons on the sleeves which sent me over the moon when I noticed! Given the probable time period (around 1950) and how cut off the encanto is from the rest of the world, it’s safe to assume there’s no stretch fabric and maybe no elastic at all. Luisa’s got bigass muscles, and when she’s using them they’re gonna bulge in different ways depending on what she’s doing! The button on the sleeve gives her space to open that cuff if she needs to, but also gives the sleeves a sweet, subtle amount of pouf. Again, this girl’s a femme and I love her for it.

The longer I go on the more I feel like I must seem bananas but let’s keep going. She has darts!

Darts are these little pleats in the fabric, present in a lot of clothing intended for people with boobs and/or other curves. In this case, it’s a straightforward way to negotiate the difference in circumference between the fabric at the collar and how much she needs to fit around her chest. For a lot of folks with breasts, you need more space in the front than in the back of your shirt, and the darts create that space. Anyway, it’s a glorious detail, pretty and practical for her shape, and keeps the trimmed neck lying neat and flat against her upper chest where it won’t gape open too much when she’s bending down.

Ok, moving on!

Her waist! Here we get a little more understated decoration in the form of embroidery and I think some lace, and gather up that extra fabric she needed for her incredible pecs into a slightly narrower waistline. I’d love her without an hourglass, but also as I’ve said a hundred times now, it delights me that she’s huge and muscular and also femme. So we’ve got a little bit of pouf again here, some room for her to move, but also an emphasis on her natural waistline. Also look how pretty the waist is in detail, I’m crazy for it:

Ok, going on. Here’s where I’m once again relying on my own experience of clothing on a bigger than average body, amateur costume making, and very basic knowledge of European and North American fashion history. I don’t know how any of that maps onto Colombian fashion history, though I’d like to find out! So that said, It seems like a brightly colored skirt and a lighter blouse is a common clothing choice for the Madrigal women and lots of background folks in the encanto, but I don’t think Luisa’s top is a blouse. She’s got a white slip on under her skirt and over the bloomers (don’t worry I’m gonna get to the bloomers I’m obsessed).

It seems the most sensible to me for the top and the underskirt to all be one piece! A chemise, or the equivalent. More carefully crafted for daytime wear than say, Mirabel’s nightgown:

but basically the same item. MUCH simpler, when you’re hauling and bending and twisting and lifting and running flexing, to not worry about whether your shirt is still tucked in or whether your slip is getting twisted around or creeping up your ribs. Especially when you’re 19 and constantly stressed out and your body is pretty different from the other women in your family. If it’s all one piece, you just stick your bloomers on under and your skirt over and ta da, you’re dressed.

Now, the skirt! This is where the most obvious details are, her signature geometric shapes and weights embroidered on. The embroidery has a gorgeous kind of shiny texture, animation is so wild wtf--

and the skirt is long enough to cover her underskirt and bloomers but short enough to not be super in the way when she’s bending to lift things.

Also, the waist has a seam in the center back, which I’m guessing (and when I make it for myself, I will ensure) has hook and eye closures so she can get it on over her magnificent thighs and then get it snug around the waist so it’s not moving around all the time.

Also, her skirt is a really practical shape overall! It looks to me like a half circle, which gives her plenty of room to move without being so full of fabric that it gets in her way.

A half circle skirt means that, if you cut it open along the seam and laid it flat, it would make half a circle shape! So when you close it up and put it on, it makes a silhouette like you can see above, sort of a quarter of a circle when it’s open. I would guess it’s probably also linen or cotton, and probably decently heavy so that it’s durable and doesn’t go flying around too much! The animators gave it a nice weight, it hangs really beautifully, and that makes me think it’s fairly thick.

NOW LISTEN. HER BLOOMERS.

I’m so in love. I have nothing smart to say about them, except that they’re the crucial period-appropriate item for her to be able to work without worrying about flashing people. Love the lace trim and delicate scalloped edges, love the purple ribbon, love that she gets to have another layer that’s practical and pretty at the same time, also love that they put the seam along the side of the leg??? The attention to detail is so wild!!

And while we’re here, her shoes! Espadrilles, which I only know anything about because they made it into North American fashion at some point. They likely have rope soles, nice and flexible, and canvas or some other sturdy fabric uppers, and those handy straps to keep them in place while Luisa’s running around rerouting rivers and whatever. Lightweight, partially open, nice for the warm/mild climate we see in the encanto. They’re also embroidered with her signature pattern, which is super cute to me.

At last we’ve reached the end this post with a lot of details that possibly only I care about, but at least it’ll be a good reference for me when I start actually constructing all these pieces for myself. Let’s have one more look at Luisa because she’s wonderful and deserves every good thing:

I love her so much

#encanto #luisa madrigal #im sorry i sound like a bananas person

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baku-writes · 3 years

Note

Izuku x reader x Bakugou izuku loves reader and Uraraka and reader is tired of being his second choice and pulls herself out of the equation only to see Katsuki was the person for her and she explores that years later Deku tries to ask her out since Uraraka left him and Katsuki steps in telling him he can’t manipulate her or something like that thank youuu!!

Sure thing!!! Deku might be a lil out of character bc in reality he is such a soft bean but LESSGOOO.

Bakugou x fem!reader, deku x fem!reader, deku x ochako

TW: cheating, angst, a bit spicy at the end

Angst to fluff 🐜💞

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!!💞💞💞

(I think the art was by @mkm_storage on twitter, but I can't completely remember, sorry )<33

He wants her

Summary: during your time at UA you always were second choice to Midoriya, you knew he 'loved' you but he also loved ochako. After a nasty break up bakugo becomes the man you always desired and the man to protect you. Even when izuku comes crawling back....

Deku was one of your first friends at UA, along with Bakugo. He was strong, smart and exceptionally kind. Plus, his motivation to become the number one was always something to be admired.

You saw yourself as average. Your quirk was good, but not enough to be the top of the class. You could pass all the tests, but you weren't the smartest in the class. Even when it come to athletics you could out perform some, but never beat the people at the top. People like midoriya, bakugo and todoroki were unreachable to you.

Suprisingly, you didn't last ot get you down. You worked hard and accomplished things due to it, your goal was to save people. Not make competition between classmates. So instead, you would attempt to help people out. Mainly deku.

That is how you two began dating, one day during a study session in his room he asked you out. And you obviously agreed. He was amazing and so kind.

But something was nagging you at the back of your mind...

Uraraka....

Don't get me wrong, she was lovely. She never hurt you and instead was always there for you. The two of you would hang out and go shopping together, even training together whilst spilling secrets and crushes. You knew she liked him and she knew you liked him too... it was a tricky situation but it would be stupid of you to deny his confession, right?

It was almost 2 years into your relationship, if you could even call it that. Nothing seemed to scream "boyfriend and girlfriend". No hugs, no kisses and no affection. To be honest, many people in your own class didn't know the two of you were even together.

But one if the few that did was Bakugo. He knew how you felt... he could see it written all over your face. You were unhappy and overall anxious about your relationship. Not that you would ever admit that.

He also knew about Uraraka... how you knew about the affection being given to her by YOUR boyfriend, how you tried to keep them distant due to the fear of being replaced. How they kept you distant, but still close enough to be hurt by everything...

----------------

*BAKUGO POV*

'Fucking disgusting' Bakugo thought, he sat in the back of the classroom.

He was 10 minutes early, but Kaminari wouldn't give him peace if he weren't in class. To his surprise Deku arrived early too, looking a little bit anxious and also... expectant?? Was he waiting for someone? It was pretty rare you would get to class early, you were known for sleeping in and arriving late by a couple of minutes...

A few second rolled around and then she entered. The 'best friend' who made you Deku's second choice, without you even fully realising it. But why were they alone.... usually you would be close by, standing in the corner and watching dead-eyed as you wait for your turn of affection. The turn that rarely came unless you threatened to leave.

As if he weren't there, the two started hugging talking and even blushing. Uraraka sat on Deku's desk and giggled at the slightest breath that would escape the nerds mouth. He didn't care about what they were speaking about. Until....

"You know Deku, we should hang out some time? Maybe have a coffee date." A small goggle escaped her mouth as her pink cheeks become more pronounced. Her legs swayed enthusiastically as Deku nodded without a word, his face crimson red and eyes wide.

Did he fucking forget he had a girlfriend? Or is he a scumbag?

Just as he was about to scream bloody murder at deku, he noticed you stood in the door way. Your demeanor uncharacteristically cold and threatening. The room felt heavy as deafening silence replaced the irritating giggles escaping Ochako's mouth....

*Y/N POV*

This was the final fucking straw...

You have been waiting outside your classroom for a minute now and all that can be heard is your 'best friends' giggling and your boyfriends flirtatious talking. You pelaed your head around the corner only to hear

"You know Deku, we should hang out some time? Maybe have a coffee date." And giggles escape the man stealing brunettes mouth.

And what made your blood run cold was his reaction. Fucking nodding. Blushing. Eyes wide. Obviously excited for the date.

You knew you were second choice. You always knew he would put hero work before you, studying before you. And even stronger girls before you. Ever since the two of you started dating that was a prominent factor in your relationship. But you still tried... so hard. You tried so hard to keep the love together, to grasp onto the memories you two had. To keep gluing the shattered pieces of your heart together each time he would push you aside for your own friend...

Sadness quickly turned to anger. You were pissed. Nearly 2 years of NOTHING. Everything was a waste, god why were you so naive. Thinking a boy so wound up in his fantasy would love you like you loved him. Thinking your best friend wouldn't go behind your back just to be with him. Thinking he would decline her even though it was obvious he liked her too.

Hah "too". Could you even say he ever liked you? Or did he pretend he liked you? Maybe he did like you.... but if he did why would he do this? If he didn't like you why would he waste your time?

You were angry and confused. And you have had enough.

That's when you were noticed by bakugo, uraraka and deku. You didn't care if your other close friend Bakugo was there, you could tell by the look on his face that he was going to lose his shit and scream at them. But this was your relationship. You were going to make all hell go lose. And you don't care if others see it. The more humiliating, the better. Just like he humiliated you.

"A date, huh?" Yous started off, calmly. This brought surprise to everyone in the room, you were talking almost as if it was girl gossip and talking about crushes. Like it was an activity you were excited to hear about.

But when you didn't get a response.... your face turned sour.

"Really a fucking date? You seem to be forgetting that I am your girlfriend" you time raised as you walked over to the two traitors. "You know what, fuck that thought. I was your girlfriend. But Hah, NOT ANYMORE!"

"You really think I didn't have the slightest idea what was going on? You think that I am thick enough to think you two would leave each other alone, huh? To not keep my eyes on you? You two are both scumbags. Ones a friend who has knew about my crush on you months before she admitted hers to anyone, and my EX-boyfriend who thought I wouldn't know about being the sidechick. "

Bakugo stared in amazement. He has never seen you so confident before, especially if you've just been hurt.

You took a breather.

"We're done, I refuse to be your second option Midoriya. I've wasted so much time on your ass, and I regret every second of it."

"Y/N wait, please. Clam down, it's alla misunderstanding. I love you both, I just need time to figu-"

"SHUT YOUR TRAP NERD!" Bakugo snapped, ramming his chair backs and standing up, his hands shoved in his pockets as he walked over to you. "She's wasted two years on your ungrateful ass, enjoy your little date shitty nerd."

"Y/N... I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was doi-" tears welled up in ochako eyes....

Guilt tripping, really? Could she not even face her own consequences without crying about it?

"Can it Uraraka. We are done too, I don't want to be friends with a man stealer."

And with that you and Bakugo left the room, leaving the two traitors to their own devices. Hoping they enjoy their little 'date'.

Little did you know, yours and Bakugos friendship would kindle onto something warmer, larger and more loving. After 6 months of being single, he confessed to you and promised to be there for you and never leave your side.

And he stuck with that promise. He never replaced you. He never made you a side chick. He did show affection to you (mostly in privacy where he could be open, but it was still more than Midoriya would ever show).

He made you feel loved, he even studied with you and bumped your grades from B's to A's. And that isn't even brushing on the fact that he made your quirky stronger. Ofcourse the two of you had some issues, like every couple, however he would apologise (it takes him a while, but he actually does apologise) and give you positive affirmations of being enough.

You loved him.

--------------------------------

*TIME SKIP!!!! PRO HERO GALA. Deku isnumber 1 hero, bakugo is number 2 hero and you are number 7 hero!!*

It was a beautiful night, you and bakugo had both moved up a rank. Placing him in the second rank and you in the 7th rank. It was a night to be celebrated, and a night for the two if you to celebrate your anniversary. The two of you had been dating for 5 years now (you were both 22) and still going strong.

Both of you looked amazing; your H/C hair perfectly styled, a small amount of makeup precisely placed onto your face and your crimson dress flowed elegantly down your body.

And let's just say Katsuki was looking fine as hell too; his suit fit tightly against his muscles, rippling and stretching with each moves. He wore a crimson tie, the same colour as your dress, which can unusual for Katsuki due to his odd undying hatred for ties.

His hair was also neatly trimmed into an undercut, a faint scar running along his scar due to a previous villain attack. But some things never change, like the scowl that adorned his face.

The dancing had just finished and pro-heros gathered in groups to chat amongst themselves. However, you had a different thought in mind.

You hadn't eaten all day, the only thing in your digestive system was half a slice of toast that you managed to eat for breakfast. But the food placed along the tables on the far side of the hall looked mouth wateringly good.

"Katsuki, I'm going to go get a bite to eat, okay?"you murmered, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before scurrying over the the food.

You turned around, painting the nicest smile you could muster. The sight of his face boiled your blood as memories of your neglectful relationship crossed your mind.

You began placing the food on your small styrofoam plate until you heard a small familiar voice behind you-

"Hey Y/N, long time no see." Fuck it was Midoriya. A small nervous giggle escaped his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck.

His face still boiled your blood as you remembered the time you wasted in the neglectful relationship. His false act of kindness made your stomach twist in violent anger.

That was until you realised he was alone. Uraraka was no where in sight, you don't even think she turned up to the pro-hero gala. It was probably down to her most recent embarrassment, being caught cheating again on the number one hero with her most recent sidekick.

"Yeah. I see you're the number 1 hero now. You finally got there in the end."

Keep your cool y/n. You have Katsuki now, Deku can't do shit to you anymore.

"Yep, it took a lot. And Kacchan in the number 2 now, huh? That's great!"

The two of you paused. The tension in the air was thick, you could probably cut it with a knife.

"Hey, uhhh, Y/N. I'm really sorry about what happened between the two of us," he hung his head down and stuffed his hands in his pockets, his voice low. " I was wondering if we could start over, maybe get back in touch, ya know? We could start again, get back together. I've reached my goal now, nothings stopping us."

His headshot back up as he looked into your eyes. Your face morphed into one of shock. Did this asshole really just ask if you two could start fresh?

"I know we ended on bad terms Y/N, and I know you are with kacchan right now but I really miss you. I can do so much better for you, I have more money. More land. A higher ranking. I could even boost your ranks."

He paused and you placed the plate of food onto the table, getting ready to possibly smack this bitch.

"I know what Kacchan is like, he is toxic and you don't look happy. Do you not miss me? Remember the time we went on a picnic and you couldn't stop laughing? He can't give that to you. Kacchan can't give anything to yo-"

A firm hand grasped his shoulder and tugged Midoriya far enough back so they could be face to face.

"K-kacchan."

"The fuck are you doing near my girlfriend, Deku?"

A low growl rumbled from Katsuki's throat as he stared down into Midoriya's eyes, his grip tightening.

"I asked a question moron, answer it. "

"I, uhhh. I was g-getting to know them a bit more." Midoriya glanced over to you, as if asking for help, but instead you crossed your arms and shook your head.

"He was trying to get back with me Katsuki, and decided to trash talk you along the way."

The audible gulp that left Midoriya's throat made a low chuckle rumble from within Katsuki.

"I'm going to give you 5 seconds to piss off outta 'ere before I blast your ass. And speak to my girl again and there will be consequences." Katsuki let go of Midoriya (who was now visibly shaken). "Now get lost."

Deku scrambled away, his composure completely lost as some pro-heros starednin confusion, only to go back to talking within their little groups.

"You okay, princess?" Katsuki steadily walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and planting a kiss to your forehead.

"I'll be fine, it was just a surprise that's all." You sighed, letting out the shaky breath and relaxing your tense muscles.

"Let's go home, I'll give you a better night to remember."

A smirk made it's way onto your boyfriends lips as one hand squeezed your ass.

-------------------------------------

I am back from my break!! Sorry this took a while, I was dealing with my mental health but it's finally finished!! I hope it is what you wanted. 💞💞

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

an icarus and his sun: chapter 9

A/N: oh look another scott pov :) where nothing will go wrong :)

Warnings: violence, mild description of seizure-like symptoms, falling, injury, blood mention, near death experiences, self-blame, corruption, passing out

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

Scott lost track of time as he flew around aimlessly. Eventually, he decided that he couldn’t avoid his responsibilities or the other empires any longer, and flew back home. Night hadn’t fallen yet, but the sun was slowly sinking in the sky as he arrived back in Rivendell. Usually Scott loved to watch the sun get lower and lower in the sky and cast his empire in gold- but the ache in his heart paired with the sight that greeted him in Rivendell made the view far less enjoyable. Pillagers, witches, and ravagers had infested his empire, terrifying his villagers, infiltrating his enchanting tower, and trampling his fields. Not only that, but Scott could spot pressure plates and tripwires that he most certainly had not put up.

“Nice parting gift from Fwhip and Sausage,” Scott muttered as he drew his bow. He started by picking off the pillagers in the village. From a perch on the roof, he was able to take most of them out. The evoker that was there gave Scott some trouble with the vexes he sent towards him, forcing Scott to switch to his sword and cut them down. After that, dealing with the evoker was easy enough, seeing as his fang attacks couldn’t reach Scott on the roof. Then came disarming the traps in the village by carefully removing pressure plates and trip wires, then removing the TNT that they were supposed to rig. Fwhip being angry at him was one thing, but Scott’s blood boiled at the nerve of Fwhip to try and hurt his villagers. Next he made sure that any injured villagers got the treatment they needed, and Scott made a mental note to fortify the walls of the village.

Next was the ravagers in his fields. There wasn’t really anywhere for Scott to perch so he could shoot at the ravagers, minus the steep cliffsides that surrounded the field. But trying to defeat the ravagers head-on wasn’t the best plan either. At least Scott couldn’t see any potential traps in the fields. He just had to be sure his aim was good- which it was, in his humble opinion. And keep his balance on a rocky cliffside as well. No problem… right? The first shot he fired went wide, completely missing the ravager he was intending to hit. With a frustrated mutter under his breath, Scott readied his bow again, taking aim. This time, it was a hit, right in the gap of the ravager’s tough skin at its neck. A few more precise shots from his bow took care of the rest of the herd in no time at all. Replanting the crops they had destroyed, however, would take a bit longer.

With the ravagers taken care of, that left maybe the most difficult problem: the witches. They were all scattered around the mountain his enchanting tower was on, and they were a bit cleverer than the pillagers and ravagers were. They were hiding in the foliage around the tower, as well as the nether plants that were leaking out from the portal- and Scott could have sworn there was more of the strange red substance growing on the mountain than the last time he had seen it. But he couldn’t deal with that now- he had witches to deal with. He picked off a couple that were outside his tower as he circled around it- and then noticed that some of them were actually inside, looking far too intrigued by the crystal that powered his enchanting table.

“Oh no you don’t,” Scott huffed, quickly scanning for any more traps near the enchanting tower before flying in to deal with the witches. He caught one by surprise and sliced right through her, the witch crumbling to ash instantly. Three more remained inside the tower, and each one of them hurled potions at Scott once they noticed their fallen companion. He managed to evade the first two- poison, if he remembered his potion particles correctly, but the harming potion the last witch threw hit him right in the chest. His muscles seized and a pained shout made its way past gritted teeth, but Scott managed to stay upright. One witch lunged at him, and he barely managed to swing his sword at her, only managing to cut her arm. But even that didn't do much good- she had a healing potion at the ready. The other two witches were getting ready to throw more potions at Scott- and with how he was still reeling from the first round of potions, he highly doubted he could deal with more in this state. The witches were closing in on him, and he had no choice but to scramble back out of the tower. However they were all focused on him now, and no longer had any interest in the crystal. The way Scott was feeling, between the harming potion still causing his body to seize with pain every so often and the residual heartbroken and lonely mood he was still shaking off, they could have just kept it for all he cared.

Scott shook himself slightly. What on earth was he thinking? Yes, he was hurting both physically and emotionally- but Rivendell was his empire, his home. He wasn’t going to let Fwhip and Sausage’s horde of witches tarnish it, no matter how desolate he felt. He tightened his grip on his sword and despite the aching muscles, spread his wings as far as he could, glaring the witches down. It had the desired effect, the witches shrinking back a bit in fear. One witch was foolish enough to try and attack, and Scott was able to cut her down this time around. With a sudden burst of determination after defeating the one witch, Scott was able to take down the two remaining witches from the tower. But there were still witches below him- ones who had noticed the scuffle outside the tower and were beginning to climb up the mountain to him.

Switching to his bow, Scott took to the skies to try and pick off the witches as they tried to come up to him. But the harming potion’s effects were still lingering, and another tremor of pain took hold of Scott while he was in the air. His wings seized, and suddenly Scott was plummeting. He tried to extend his wings out and glide down, but he couldn’t quite get his limbs to respond in time. He crashed at the nether portal cave entrance, crying out as something cut his arm as he fell. He weakly pushed himself up from the crumpled heap he had become, dimly registering the witches inching closer as he gently stretched his wings, checking to make sure they hadn’t broken in the fall. Fortunately, his wings seemed to be responding normally now, and Scott pushed himself up to stand on slightly wobbly feet. He couldn’t give up now, not when there were five- no six- maybe it was five?- he couldn’t quite tell, his vision was blurring something awful- witches still approaching him. Frankly, Scott wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get out of this one. Maybe he deserved it, for what he did to Jimmy, Katherine, and by extension the entire House Blossom Alliance.

Scott looked to the mountains where his village and home were, wanting to see its beauty one last time- and happened to focus his gaze on the statue of Aeor. All at once, Scott didn’t feel quite so weary. He still ached, and his arm was stinging from the cut, but he got a sudden burst of energy as he looked upon the statue. The deer god had been relatively silent for as long as Scott could remember… was this sudden energy a gift from Aeor? Regardless of where the energy came from, Scott wasn’t going to let this chance go to waste. He drew his bow and shot down two of the witches in quick succession, clearly surprising the remaining three. They scrambled to throw potions at him, but he took to the skies again before they could land at his feet, and shot down the remaining three witches.

The burst of energy Scott had gotten was sapped as soon as the last witch crumbled into dust. He was able to glide over to the door to his home, and nearly fell flat on his face after he pushed the door open. But he somehow managed to stay upright, and stumbled over to his chests. It didn’t take him too long to find a healing potion, and breathed a sigh of relief after drinking it. The effects of the harming potion finally dissipated, and the minor scrapes from his fall healed- but the larger cut on his arm was still stinging. And then he finally got a good look at it.

The bleeding had more or less stopped thanks to the healing potion, but it was still a glaring, sickening red. But that wasn’t all. There was a pulsing red something spreading beneath his skin in a veiny web. The strange red web had already taken up most of his forearm, and he hadn’t even been cut by whatever it was for that long. And the healing potion didn’t do a thing to the cut besides stop it from bleeding.

Scott’s breath got quicker as the panic began to set in. What was he supposed to do? He definitely didn’t know what was happening, or what effect this cut and the resulting corruption in his skin would have. And he didn’t exactly have anyone he could go to for help… unless he finally got over himself and went to Pearl or Gem. They left the Wither Rose Alliance too- surely they would be on his side and be willing to help him?

His mind made up, Scott flew to Gem’s empire. She was closer than Pearl was, and was the land’s resident magic expert. Surely she could help Scott. But when Scott made it there, the Crystal Cliffs seemed vacant. Gem was nowhere to be seen, unless she was in one of her towers, in her home nestled in the cliffside, or really any other building in her empire. Before Scott could call out to Gem for help, his head spun. While the healing potion had helped at first, the stinging pain from the cut on his arm was back in full force, he was still a little battle-weary from dealing with Fwhip and Sausage’s little “gift,” and the flight to Gem’s took a lot more out of him than he thought. Scott took a step forward, intending to try and make his way towards one of the buildings in Gem’s empire- and promptly fell on his face. He laid there for a few moments, dimly realizing he should be trying to get up. But his head felt foggy and his arm stung like hell- and he couldn’t quite get any of his limbs to respond. He finally mustered the strength to push himself up on the forearm that wasn’t cut and pulsing with corruption- but that small movement took what remaining energy he had, and his arm gave out as he fell into the embrace of unconsciousness with a groan.

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MCYT General Fic Taglist: @corazon10000 @damiensaidno @franticfandomfanatic @gattonero17 @hetapeep41 @space-ace123 @vyeoh

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#empires smp #scott smajor #flower husbands #mcyt #aiahs #sage writes

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sevenstarsinning · 3 years

Text

Sweat

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11

Chapter 12

The faint sound of birds chirping pulled you from a heavy sleep, forcing you to shy away from the brightness of the sun and turn directly into a broad chest. Your eyes flitted open, curious when Vegeta had returned home and how exactly you got home, but it wasn't Vegeta and you weren't at home.

"Goku?! Fuck." You sat up instantly, recognizing precisely where you were.

"What's wrong?" He sat up with you, immediately on alert.

"What's wrong?! I'm here, that's what's wrong. Why am I in your bed?!" You started to panic.

"You passed out and Kyla said to make sure you got to bed after I dropped her off." He explained.

"She probably meant my bed, Goku. Not yours." You scrambled out of the bed, in full panic at the fact that you'd spent the night with Goku.

"I didn't think Vegeta would like me showing up in your bedroom with you in my arms. Plus, I-I missed having you here." He admitted.

"Goku, I know this hasn't been easy on you, but you can't just-"

"I slept last night. I don't sleep when you're not here." Goku climbed off the bed and stopped you from putting your shoes on, "I don't want you to go."

"Goku, I'm with Vegeta."

"But he doesn't need you like I do. He doesn't want to spend every second with you."

You let out a soft sigh, feeling even more conflicted by the second.

"Goku, I-" Before you could finish your sentence he cupped your face and kissed you.

You pulled back instantly, staring up at him in disbelief, but you couldn't stop yourself. You threw your arms around him and pressed your lips to his again. He pushed you back against the wall, hands gripping your hips as his tongue slipped between your lips. Everything about him was so soft, so sweet and perfect, it was hard not to get wrapped up in him.

"Stay with me. Please?" He begged softly against your lips between kisses.

"I- I can't." You said, feeling like you were breaking his heart all over again.

He stopped kissing you and pressed his forehead to yours, "I know. I just wanted to ask again."

"This was a bad idea. All of it." You admitted.

"I can take you home now if you want?" He stepped back from you.

"That's also a bad idea. We need more time, Goku. I think at least for a while, we should stay apart." As you said the words they almost tore your heart out completely and you could only guess how it felt for him.

"Okay. If that's what you want." He said, barely audible with his head hung low.

The ride home in the cab was heavy, every ounce of your being telling you to go back, to leap into his arms and never leave, but it wasn't that simple. You took a deep breath before you pushed the front door open, almost running straight into the wall of muscle and anger known as Vegeta.

He squeezed past you with nothing but a glare on his face and headed outside.

"Wait, can we talk? I... I'm sorry about not coming home. I started drinking and I ended up passing out," you explained, hopeful he wouldn't ask where you stayed. At least, that's what you thought you wanted until you realized he didn't care enough to ask.

"I'll be home later, we can talk then if you're even here."

"Can't you skip training so we can figure out whatever is going on between us?" You tried to keep calm and not start crying, but the entire fucked up situation was too much to process.

"I'm not training, that ridiculous Bulma woman is making me clean up the mess I made of the gravity chamber last night," he grumbled.

"Wait, what? You're skipping training to help Bulma?" You asked, brow furrowed at how ridiculous the idea was.

"Only so it'll shut her up," he added. The surly prince crossed his arms and let out a heavy sigh.

You knew there was absolutely no reason you should be jealous, or that you even had a right to be, but you couldn't shake the feeling.

"Can I come with you? We can talk on the way."

"No. You'll only slow me down." He shot you down quickly.

"I really want you to stay so we can talk about this stuff." You pushed, needing him to stay.

"Talking got us nowhere last time. I see no point in continuing the process over and over again."

"What other choice do we have, Vegeta? If we don't figure this out... " you trailed off. Neither of you needed to say what you knew was true. Something had to change or the relationship was going to be over before you ever got to fully enjoy it.

"I'll be home later," he said again.

He left without another word. You stood there, feeling empty and alone. You wanted to force him to stay, to hash things out, but honestly, what else was there to say? Your relationship began with him cheating on Kyla and with you fucking his friend.

"How dire is my situation if I'm considering day drinking?" You asked when Kyla answered her phone. Somehow, you had already adjusted to having her in your life as a friend rather than an enemy. Kyla without Vegeta was a drastically different person. Or perhaps you just never saw her as anything more than Vegeta's bitchy girlfriend.

"Well, that depends. If you're drinking right now, I'd say it's pretty fucking dire. At 5pm? Not so much," she answered without missing a beat.

"Damn. That's what I thought." You sighed.

"Dickhead do something?" She asked.

"Kind of, but not really. I spent the night with Goku and-"

"Hold the fuck up. You spent the night where?" She interrupted.

"He didn't take me home last night. We just slept, but we kissed this morning." You wanted to go back to that moment.

"And now Vegeta doesn't want to talk and he's over at Bulma's helping her with something. All of this makes me want to drink." You sighed.

"Fuck, it makes me want to drink." She said.

"I really don't know what to do anymore. I thought I could ignore the feelings for Goku, but they just keep getting stronger."

"If you want to really figure out how you're feeling and what you want, alcohol isn't the best option." Kyla said.

"When did you become the voice of reason here?" You knew she was right.

"When I started letting Yamcha hit it and found out he really is just empty space." She said with full seriousness.

"Apparently we both need a break from the bullshit."

"We've tried that two nights in a row. Both nights we ended up getting trashed with Goku and I'm pretty sure the three of us would've fucked last night on the baseball field if you two weren't hopelessly in love with each other," she said in one breath.

"We're not hopelessly in love." You argued.

"Oh, do you have evidence that you're not?" She shot back.

"Yes, I'm with Vegeta." You said simply.

"You do know that's not really helping your case, right? You can be with someone but still love someone else."

"Okay, well, we aren't hopelessly in love because Goku doesn't understand the concept." You felt like you were grasping at any defense.

"He may not understand the concept, but he understands what he feels, which is complete devotion to you." Kyla said.

"Goddamn it." You sighed.

"We can do this all day but you haven't given me a vaild reason against it. You also haven't mentioned actually being in love with Vegeta either."

"You're relentless, Kyla, goddamn." Your chest heaved and you let out a long, slow breath.

"Yeah, at some point I actually started to care about this shitstorm. Seeing Goku like this really tugs at those annoying heartstrings."

"What if you're right about me and Vegeta? The whole sexual attraction mistaken for feelings thing." You cringed at the mere thought.

"Then you have a choice to make. Stay with him despite knowing there are no real feelings there, or end things as they are before it gets any more complicated."

Everything she was saying was spot on, but you couldn't sift through the feelings without worrying you were wrong or making a mistake.

After your conversation with Kyla you tried to find something else to focus on. You cleaned the house from top to bottom, showered, cooked lunch, and even organized your bookshelf. By the time you finished you'd actively spent your time avoiding the topic of your love life, but the second you sat down, it all came flooding back.

You frantically searched for something else to keep your mind busy, but you came up empty. After collapsing on the couch, you began flipping through the channels on the tv, settling on one of your favorite movies that you'd seen a million times before but still loved. You focused on the movie and the insane chemistry between the two actors, finding yourself getting drawn in to the sex scene as it unfolded. Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties as you felt yourself getting more turned on by the second.

You closed your eyes and thought about the last time you had sex, how rough Vegeta was with you, how he bit you. Soft moans escaped your lips as your fingers circled your clit. Images of Vegeta crawling up your body, eyes hungrily gazing up at you. You rolled your hips against your hand, Vegeta faded and Goku replaced him. His sweet smile never failed to leave you weak. The way he could be rough with you and gentle right after was a balance no else could achieve, at least not in your experience. You were already getting close to coming just from the mental image of Goku on top of you, thrusting into you with the perfect amount of force. It wasn't any special saiyan form, just him. That was all you needed.

You bit your lip to hold back the moan, knowing which name you were close to screaming. It was all so confusing and complex. You focused more on how perfectly Goku fucked you, how quickly he'd learned how to work your body to give you the best orgasms. Your fingers moved faster as you neared your release, short breathy moans escaping your lips along with broken remnants of a name.

"Fuck... Goku..." you whimpered as you finally let go.

"Why did you even bother coming back?" Vegeta asked, ripping you away from the very private moment you were having.

Before your brain could process just how bad your next words were going to sound, you blurted them out. "I don't know."

"Foolish human. You don't know what you want- "

"Fuck off, Vegeta. This isn't one sided and you know it," you snapped.

"Don't assume you know what's going on in my head, woman. I was fine with whatever this is, you've been the one ruining it," he shouted back.

"Whatever this is? It's called a fucking relationship, Vegeta. Or maybe it was just sex for you and I was stupid enough to believe it was something more!"

It hurt to watch your relationship with him deteriorate so quickly, but you didn't cry like you expected. You did start to think it was mostly a physical attraction, but that wasn't something you were ready to admit.

"It is something more, you frustrating woman! I want you around more than anyone else on this pathetic planet," he roared, revealing more of his feelings than you expected.

"Then why weren't you here? Why have I spent the majority of our relationship either alone or with your ex?" You stared back at him, waiting for some explosion of anger.

"You chose to strike up that friendship with Kyla, not me. And you were well aware of how I spent my time but you couldn't be satisfied with that." He said.

You stood up and approached him, "I wasn't satisfied with seeing my boyfriend every now and then and having to beg him to stay home. I need more than that, Vegeta." You hated to admit how much you needed reassurance, affection, but it was the truth.

"I'm not going to be the weak, clingy boyfriend you want. You'd think your new friend would've caught you up on that little detail." He said.

"I don't want clingy, Vegeta, I just want you to be here, at least half the time." You felt like you were begging for basic attention.

"You're the one who pursued me, you wanted this."

"I didn't fucking want this. And I remember you being the one to kiss me first and then fuck me to prove whatever power, dominance thing to Goku."

He made two easy strides towards you, "don't act like you're innocent in any of this. You were jealous of Kyla from the second we started dating and I was no longer looking in your direction."

"Oh I'm far from fucking innocent, I know that." You had been carrying the guilt with you since day one.

"What do you want, woman? Just tell me what you want." He asked.

"I-I don't know anymore. I thought I wanted this, you, but now it just all seems so fucking... fucked. What about you? What do you want?"

"I'm not answering the question for you. You either want to be with me or you don't. It's that simple." He crossed his arms.

"It's not simple though." You shook your head, everything seeming more complex by the second.

"Then I'll make it simple."

In one swift movement, he had your body pressed against his and kissed you like he never did before. You could feel his need, and it threw you off. For a second, you thought it was an accident. But you knew the mighty prince of all Saiyans, if he let that little trace of emotion through, it was because he wanted you to know.

You kissed him back, feeling the ache in your chest growing. You wanted Vegeta, or at least you wanted to want him. Seeing him vulnerable like this was almost too much to take, especially when all it did was make you even more confused. But you continued to kiss him, hoping things would suddenly become clear, that you'd know the answer instantly.

You pulled yourself away abruptly, "I-I don't know. I- this isn't helping. I just need some time to think."

Vegeta's expression quickly turned from a rare softness back into stoic and brooding.

"When you figure out what the hell it is that you want, let me know." He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

His words echoed through the night, circling your mind as you fixated on them. What did you want? Who did you want? It was a simple question, but there were no simple answers.

You tossed and turned, finally giving up on sleep. You resorted to standing in the living room having fake break up conversations with both of them. That only complicated the process of sorting through your feelings and you were left feeling more confused than you were before. Part of you wanted to work it out with Vegeta. He was willing to show a softer side, something you were desperate for.

Meanwhile, Goku was amazing, affectionate, and he wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of you. There was a third option, your last resort if there was no clear decision. You could distance yourself from both of them. The question was, could you handle the pain of not having either of them?

#vegeta x reader #goku x reader #sweat fic #lynn #supremeleadershitlord

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vermilionwinds · 3 years

Text

5. Residence

On the first day, she figures out her favorite spots in the apartment.

It doesn’t take long. As far as cozy spots go she’s spoiled for choice.

When pressed, she says it's the armchair on the second floor that’s large enough for her to curl all of her six-odd fulms into, with a bookshelf just behind her and an orchestrion within reaching distance. She always tells herself that it’d be a great place to have coffee in the morning, but when five bells finds her as it usually did, dead-eyed from fitful rest, she sighs and resigns herself to draping herself across the living room couch while she waits for her kettle to sing. She drums her fingers across the porcelain of her mug as she watches the mobile of bluebirds twirl just overhead. She thinks about the identical ones her friend has in her office, and chuckles at the thought of her fondness for the pudgy little things. It was so very much like her.

The couch becomes home to plenty of slumping, of various kinds. Slumping with a book in her hands, every so often nodding off and dropping it on the bridge of her nose. Slumping with a bottle of wine, drained quietly alone, when there were memories that needed to be drowned. Slumping in agony, every muscle screaming after squeezing blood into gil, wondering how much more punishment she could take. Wondering what there even would be left for her, after she finally reached that limit.

But even then, it was a home for those things. And that wasn’t lost on her.

On the second day, she buys groceries. It’s a little ambitious of her. She’s bad at it, is easily swindled at the marketplace, and over half a job’s take goes to food she’ll either burn or forget about or leave to mold, but when she puts the fruit down on the fruit rack and the produce in the ice box, she feels a quiet kind of pride. She tries to tell herself that it was worth it, even when she returns to Momodi days before she meant to and pleads hat in hand for more work. And the next evening after finds her with a black eye and a seam of stitches through her side, hunched over a bowl of Hannish takeout as she gives up on her plans to make soup that evening.

But even then, it was a home for those things. And that wasn’t lost on her.

On the fifth day, she doesn’t leave the apartment. She barely leaves the loft bed; only long enough to drag a bottle and some leftovers with her into her nest of blankets. She keeps the light pink curtains drawn, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the fish tank just beyond it. She tries and fails not to think, bell after bell, over and over and over again. The liquor helps. Until it doesn’t. And as she clumsily lowers herself into the blue claw-footed tub, water near scalding, she tries not to look down at her body. She brings the bottle back to her lips, and curses herself for wasting her day off like this.

But even then, it was a home for those things. And that wasn’t lost on her.

On the eighth day, she has a friend over.

She’s never had a friend over before, and she has no idea how it’s done. She spends the whole day before cleaning and scrubbing and, arms deep in sudsy water, she wonders how in the seven hells she could have left so many mugs all over the place. But it has to look right, even if she knew her guest didn’t care. She’d learned a long time ago, under oaken trees, small hands sticky with sap, that the way you showed your gratitude was by taking care of what you were given. She watches, as they walk together under the Ul'dahn sun, how the woman breezes through the marketplace. A few of the merchants insist that Saint Savage will not be paying today (What a title, she thinks every time it comes up), and yet she always does. She watches the smile on her face in every interaction. She’s seen that smile in dingy bars and packed clubs and late summer nights, and it’s a smile she hopes she always has cause to come back around to.

She helps her carry their ingredients back up the apartment stairs, and she doesn’t notice that she can take them without looking now. She pours two glasses of wine, she sharpens a kitchen knife with her well-loved whetstone, and she renders produce into cubes with surgical precision. She curls her fingers in towards her palm as she’d been taught, and in her mind's eye she can see the big, leathery hands that had once modeled the technique for her. She’s put in charge of seasoning, and the color nearly drains from her face. She shrugs, she gives in, and she sends clouds, cascades, torrents of pungent spices down into the mixing bowl. She talks. She reminisces. She laughs. She watches her friend pull a wooden spoon through a cast iron skillet, framed by the setting sun pouring through the kitchen window, and something about the sight almost makes her cry.

She’s handed her portion, and as they eat she quickly realizes, too late, how much spice was too much. And how far past too much she had gone. As they begin to tear up, sinuses going completely rampant, they can’t help but look at each other and laugh, loud and hard and long even as they cough and sputter and stumble over each other, trying to find something to put out the fire they’d lit in their mouths. Collapsed into a giggling pile on the floor, she rests her head on her friend’s shoulder, taking her hand in hers while they passed a bottle of rolanberry juice between them. She wishes that some moments would stretch on forever.

--------

On the ninth day, she cleans up dishes they’d forgotten to take care of the night before. She tries her best to buff out a deep red juice stain on the wall she begins to worry just isn’t coming out. And as she pours salt into the bottom of the cast iron skillet and begins to scrub at it with a rag, she wonders what the place was like when her friend first arrived, long before the two of them had met. What spoke to her about each book as she filled out her shelves. What kinds of songs she played on the white piano in the back. What dishes she cooked with the bundles of dried spices, hung just above the windowsill. Why she had stocked the bar so full for a single-person apartment. And what she saw in the mobile of bluebirds when she slumped across the couch and watched them lazily spin.

Because she had built a home out of those things. And that wasn't lost on her.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #RemerauxWrites #Severine #mentions

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peach-the-owl · 3 years

Note

How about a Vox Machina one where the reader is generally the go to comfort person of the group? Maybe it's emotional or physical comfort, but everyone eventually has laid their head on their lap, stomach, shoulder, or leg. Just general caduceus vibes coming from the reader! She could even be a firbolg or tabaxi.

I think everyone needs a Caduceus in their life...

Idk if this turned out well, fingers crossed it did, idk I feel a little out of practice

It's My Pleasure

Vox Machina & Tabaxi!Reader (Platonic)

I feel this format works the best for this scenario so each member has a more personal one on one moment (does that make sense?)

Pike

She was the first to warm up to you, you both being similar in wanting to help and protect the party though Pike couldn’t always stick around. When she is around the two of you usually like spending some time together with her sitting in your lap while you help fix up her hair, carefully combing your hands though her white locks a few hair ties in hand.

"Sometimes I envy you." She says out of the blue one day, you let out a soft hum of acknowledgment and let her continue. "You get to be there for them, helping everyone while I run off to fulfil my duties to Sarenrae. There’s so much I have to do and figure out but I also so badly want to help, it just… it can be a lot sometimes." She lets out a soft sigh. You pause in your actions and think about her words for a moment.

"Do you dislike it?" You question.

"What? No, of course not. I have great faith in the path put before me." You chuckle lightly at her defensiveness.

"Then why envy me? Just because you aren’t always here with us doesn’t mean you're not helping. As far as I can see we all have our roles to play in the grand scheme of things. Sure, there are things I can do which you might not, but there are also things that only you can achieve that I certainly could never do. I could never replace you and what you mean to everyone, and I'd never want to." You finally resume your actions, finishing up with fixing her hair into neat little buns. "I hope your hair is to your liking." You quickly add handing over a mirror. She takes it and looks herself over before placing the mirror back down, looking up at you with a smile and giving you a hug.

"It’s perfect. Thank you, for everything… I really needed that talk. We should do this more often." You look down at her and return the smile and hug with a soft purr.

"It'd be my pleasure."

Keyleth

She had a charming awkwardness to her or at least that’s what you'd call it but even so you always welcomed any conversation with her no matter how strange they may be sometimes. Evenings seemed to be the time you’d have these conversations the most, taking in the cool air and overall unwinding from a long day. Today brought in something different when your ears flit around to catch the faint sound of footfalls making there way over to your location, turning to see Keyleth halt in her steps, you give her a kind smile.

"Care to join me, there’s plenty of room." You scoot over slightly and pat the ground next to you, accepting the offer she shuffles over and sits down. Neither of you say anything at first, just watching as the stars awaken and twinkle in the sky accompanied by crickets chirping their nightly sonata making for a serene atmosphere. You look over at Keyleth seeing a saddened expression drawn on her face, a slight gloss over her eyes. "Troubled?" You ask with a quiet voice.

"I uhh, I guess." She sighs, you move closer to her and she automatically leans her head against your shoulder, being mindful of the antlers.

"Care to talk about it?" You throw an arm around her shoulder and give her a few gentle back rubs. She takes a second and lets out a some puffs of air, you could feel her body tremble a little.

"What if I’m not cut out for this." She finally says. You turn your head slightly to look at her and she stares back a second before looking away again and continuing. "Becoming headmaster of the Air Ashari I mean." Doubt weighed heavily in her voice.

"You are a strong individual with a stubborn yet admirable determination when you set your heart and mind to something, perhaps not every plan works out in the end but you always have the interest of others in mind. Traits like that are well needed for a good leader." You reassure. She shifts in her position to wipe away any tears that were starting to fall with her arm.

"I just- I don’t know if I can really do this, my mother never returned and I’m not like my father." Before she can continue you turn your body and get a firm grip on her shoulders making her pause and finally look at you.

"Keyleth," the sudden firmness in your voice surprised her. "You're right, you are not your father nor are you your mother, the only person you can be is yourself and that is what makes you great. That’s what we all love about you, all of us here with you love you because you’re no one else but yourself. Stubborn, quirky awkwardness and all." When you finish your little speech you take a moment to let your words sink in for her. She stares at you stunned, the tears start trailing down her face again as it all sets in and she quickly embraces you with a soft sob, you return the gesture giving her a chance to let out all she’d been holding back.

"I never wanted this." She breaths, hiccuping through her words a little, sounding more muffled from leaning into your shoulder. You get the feeling she didn’t intend for that to be said aloud when she speaks again, more clearly this time. "You say it like that’ll make this easy."

"I know it won’t be, it’s a long, rough road ahead but you have to remember we’re all here for you every step of the way." You stay in the hug for a few minutes you soothingly comb your fingers through her hair until Keyleth finally lets go, signalling you to do the same.

"I think I feel a little better now. Did you still want to talk about something else?" She asks almost nervously making you chuckle softly.

"Of course, it’s always a pleasure to talk with you."

Vex

It took a while before Vex eventually started to warm up to you and give you her trust, not that you were surprised by this, but your calming presents brought in an ease where she could let down her guard without having to worry about being questioned for it, usually joining you while you meditated. You were always fine in letting her use you as a sort of backrest while she tried to come back down from whatever problems she may be going through, hearing her heavy breaths slowly start to calm into steady ones. What usually happens is she’d press her weight against your back, head resting between your shoulder blades with a light thud, you always take a quick peek over your shoulder to see her in a rather tense state, she shifts her gaze at you and you give her a warm smile before returning to your meditation. The silence brings a solace to the atmosphere, never feeling awkward between the two of you, only her heavy breaths being heard as you patiently wait for when or if she was ready to talk, gently wrapping your tail around her waist as support but not trapping her in place.

Most of the time you've well finished your needed meditation but even still decide not to move, just acting as support for your friend. Finally she shifts over making you remove your tail and giving you a chance to stretch your muscles a little. This time she comes around and sits herself in front of you, her eyes showing the broken girl deep down that wanted to say something her voice didn’t want to comply to speaking aloud, the both of you just sharing in a silent conversation by watching the other. You could see so much running though those eyes of someone who grew up with so little, in return you show gentle patience and kind reassurance. You’re surprised by the sudden feeling of her weight on you again, leaning against your shoulder for comfort. She’s never really been this vulnerable with you before, or at the very least didn’t show it often but you weren’t going to say anything about it, instead placing a hand on her back and giving a few pats before keeping it there. Sure not single word had been uttered the entire time but sometimes you don’t need words to express your thoughts.

"I-… Thank you." She says slowly, finally breaking the silence. You remove your hand and stand up properly, giving a small nod and smile.

"It was my pleasure."

Vax

It was a little surprising to you how much quicker Vax was to warm up to and trust you compared to his sister, your calm presents and well understanding of life and death really helping ease his nerves when he traded his life for his sisters to the Raven Queen. The two of you would have talks on rooftops often as a way to hold such deep conversations away from the others.

"I made the right choice, didn’t I?" It was a bit of an odd conversation starter, coming out of nowhere but you were used to that by this point.

"You saved your sisters life and didn’t you say before that you feel you may have finally found your purpose, if I were in your place I would’ve done the same." You say looking over at him, his eyes trained on the horizon for a moment before meeting yours.

"You’d do the same? But you already have a place and purpose in the world." He seemed surprised by your quick resolve, you shake your head with a small hum.

"Let me ask you something. If you only had one year to left to live what would you do? Would you sit on the thought and let it fester into fear and sorrow? Or would you make the most of every moment you've got, leaving your mark on the world with no regrets." He sits back a bit more, thinking over your question.

"Well of course I'd want to make the most of everything and leave with no regrets."

"Precisely, the choices we made are in the past now so we need to make the most of what we have here and now because everything will eventually come to an end, it’s what we do with our remaining time that really counts."

"You make a very compelling point… It’s very late, care to grab a drink?" You hold back a laugh at the sudden change in subject but nod.

"Of course, always a pleasure."

Grog

There really isn’t much to say about Grog, he's like a soft teddy bear deep down if you’re good friends with him and that’s about all there is to it. Though he does enjoy a nice hug from time to time from the "little kitty" as he liked to call you and you weren’t one to complain, so long as he isn’t accidentally crunching you with his immense strength. As for conversations, well there aren’t many and if there is they certainly aren’t anything thought provoking, again not that you’d complain. You liked his simplicity and needs for hugs whenever he wanted one, it's quite a pleasure to just spend time in one another’s company.

(I know this one's shorter but it’s Grog what else can one expect.)

Percy

Often quiet and giving a cold shoulder is what you came to accept from Percy for a while, you could easily tell the man had been through a lot in the past and still suffered from it in the present. However one odd encounter really changed that, finally letting him open up to you and strengthen the bond you shared…

Castle Whitestone, finally free from the Briarwoods grasp, could be a little tricky to navigate if you didn’t know what you were doing, which you didn't but you were following a sound you’d heard, letting your ears flit this way and that to see if you could pick up the sound again. This leads you to stumble upon an old and seemingly forgotten storage room. Letting the curious nature in you take hold you enter the dusty room seeing Percy of all people had also found his way here before you and was staring at something. Getting a closer look, you see that it’s an old portrait of his family, a bit torn in places but still well enough intact. Percy raises his hand and places it on the painting then balls his hand into a fist, looking ready to punch something, his gaze then suddenly shifts and meets with yours. The both of you just stare at each other in a tense feeling silence.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I’ll just take my leave." You give a slight bow of your head and prepare to turn and leave, stopping when you feel a light grip on your wrist. Turning to face him again you can see that Percy himself wasn’t sure why he just stopped you, his expression too had completely changed from the stone faced man you knew to a broken boy who never got to truly mourn his family. There was only one thing you could think of doing to help as you silently offer your shoulder for him feeling slightly shocked when he actually accepts it, releasing his grip on your wrist to embrace you in this rare moment of solitude and vulnerability between the two of you. Retuning the embrace you stay in place for as long as he needed, letting a more comfortable silence now ease into the room.

"I see why everyone’s easily grown quite comfortable in you’re presents." He finally says with a small chuckle and releasing his grip on you.

"Call it a blessing or curse if you wish but I’m always happy to help." You subtly try and joke, giving a closed-eye smile and unconsciously let out a small purr.

"Perhaps I misjudged you in the past, like everyone else, I do hope we can look past that and start again properly." He sounded hopeful and you were happy to oblige.

"It would be my pleasure."

Scanlan

Always the ever comical one, Scanlan never really felt the need to share much about his personal life openly to anyone but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. You knew this full well but didn’t feel the need to pressure him into admitting anything, you didn’t have to seeing as he sorta did it to himself unintentionally when he decided to splay himself onto your lap much to your own confusion. Oh well, at least he was still wearing pants this time.

"You know you keep staring at me like you know something." He starts, using his arms to act as a headrest.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I don’t mean to cause you any discomfort." You apologize before refocusing on the book in your hands. Silence washes in, he stays laying across your lap the entire time before the quiet gets to be too much for him.

"If you really do have something to say, just say it already!" He sounded irritated making you look away from your book once more to stare at him. "See, that’s what I mean! You look like you have something to say so say it and get it over with!" You remain silent and his expression shifts to slight regret. "Uhh… did you have something to say?" He finally questions. You let out a quiet sigh.

"Well that depends," you pause a second and he stares up at you expectantly. "Was there something you wanted to hear?"

"Wait, what?" He shakes his head in confusion before continuing. "No, of course not. I don’t need to hear anything because everything’s just fine. That's it! That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll be. Nobody really cares, I’m just the funny man who plays songs and makes jokes. Why should anyone ask about him or who his mother was before they were killed in front of him by damn goblins! Why would they, it doesn’t matter that’s not why I’m here! It doesn’t matter!… I… I don’t matter." You listen in silence as he goes on, letting his true feelings out alongside some tears, but you listened to all of it until he finally ran out of words letting out small puffs of air.

"What was your mother's name?" He jumps in surprise, somehow having forgotten he was still sitting in your lap and stares up at you, seeing your calm patient eyes stare back.

"Ummm, heh." He gives a halfhearted chuckle while wiping away some tears. "Juniper. Her name was Juniper."

"She sounds like she was a lovely woman, I am terribly sorry for your lose." You place a hand over your heart, bowing your head slightly as a sign of respect.

"She was." He stares off a little before looking back at you with a slightly nervous expression. "So uhhh, you’re not planning on sharing this conversation with anyone else… are you?" You give a light shake of your head.

"Not unless you want me to."

"No no, absolutely not." He jumps in quickly, you give a nod in understanding. "Anyways, I for one have had enough of whatever that was… but uhhh, thank you… for being the first to listen." He gives almost a sigh of relief when he says this, like a large weight had finally been lifted.

"It's my pleasure."

#critical role #critical role & reader #vox machina #vox machina & reader #pike trickfoot #pike & reader #keyleth #keyleth & reader #vex'ahlia #vex & reader #vax'ildan #vax & reader #cr grog #grog & reader #percy de rolo #percy & reader #scanlan shorthalt #scanlan & reader #nothing romantic here

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sleeperswakewriting · 3 years

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i just thought of a new prompt omg rivetra skating partners au??? IMAGINE THE SEXUAL TENSION??? THE SLOWBURN FROM BEING SKATING PARTNERS TO FRIENDS TO LOVERS 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

saw this tweet and imagined them sm: https://twitter.com/oyimpian/status/1383173356774699012?s=21

Omg anon, thank you for showing me this. I have 0 knowledge about figure skating but I do love watching it! I was totally listening to the Yuri on Ice soundtrack writing this. I don’t think I would be the best person to write a full fic, but I hope this 2k ficlet works! Routine and outfits based on this performance!

They had kissed more times than she could count. It had always been the same in their five years of working together--orchestrated, chaste, but just enough acting to dazzle the crowd and judges.

And tonight would be their last.

Petra tightened the laces of her figure skates, making sure not to snag the nylon of her stockings from her freshly manicured nails. She checked herself in the mirror; ginger hair locked neatly into a bun for the maneuvers they would be pulling off later, and her deep red velvet dress twirled around her hips. It was one of the most daring outfits she had ever performed in, with the back almost completely exposed and and the front neck cut a deep v-neck with the mesh layer.

She took a deep breath as memories washed over her, wondering where the time had gone. It had only seemed like just yesterday when Petra met her grumpy skating partner, Levi, and she had wanted to knock him off the ice from their initial meeting to his brash attitude. However, they performed the tryouts at their coaches’ requests, and not only were they physically compatible, she had latched on to his crude sense of humor and found his company enjoyable.

Sure, it took them awhile, he would frequently get irritated at her when she would lose her footing or not stick a landing, and she would throw him a few choice words whenever he dropped her, which wasn’t often, but the minute his hands slipped and she came crashing down, tempers flared. They were both good at what they did, they were hand selected by the top coaches in their country, and with talent, came ego.

Unsurprisingly, their common work ethic served as a guidepost for their mutual partnership over the course of the five years they had been working together. Petra was relatively newer to the competitive figure skating scene, only doing some solo competitions but felt that she could accomplish more with a partner. Levi was in a similar boat, about to retire since he had gotten bored, but when his coach Erwin suggested a partner he said, why not?

Except it had been disastrous, with Levi mouthing off to each of his partners, and not to mention that they all commented on his height. It wasn’t a huge sore spot because he had been used to it, but the fact of the matter was, no woman wanted to be lifted by a man who was 5 inches shorter than her, so he resigned himself to retiring until Erwin suggested that he meet up with Petra Ral, a new, but talented skater who was 8 years his junior.

Not only was she shorter than him, but they were able to move in time with one another and were able to wordlessly read each other’s movements. It was an intimate type of connection, one that their mutual partners over the years had questioned time and time again, but they both reassured their partners and more importantly, themselves, that their feelings were completely platonic.

Or so had Petra thought until Levi told her that after this year, he would be retiring. He was getting older and he was looking at other career prospects, like possibly coaching, but valued their companionship over the years. He said the words with such a precise staccato that Petra even wondered if he cared at all since he took her out to dinner after practice to tell her.

It was then that her heart broke. She assumed it was just from losing her skating partner, that was a common occurrence in their field, but as the day of their last competition grew closer, Petra knew it was something more.

The way his hands pressed into her waist was no longer a section of choreography, but a gesture that made her heart flutter. His concentrated stormy look when they breathed in time with one another, preparing to execute a synchronized dance, was now filled with an electricity when their blades scraped their ice.

This routine in particular was special; it was from Moulin Rouge, one of her favorite movies and the first part of the routine was sensual and filled with lust. They had spent hours upon hours perfecting each and every single lift, and they had barely any time to see family and friends from the hours they put into their routine. Truth be told, they spent the most time with each other, and the action of hanging out after work wasn’t even strange, it was expected, as they alternated who picked the restaurant for the night.

There was a knock at the door, and Petra shouted, “Come in!” as she already knew who it was from the three steady raps.

Levi entered, looking handsome in his simple black outfit to compliment her own. He took her in and nodded appreciatively as the weight of the next hour hung heavy over them.

“You ready?” He asked, hand outstretched.

Petra smiled, used to the familiar words and routine they had as she took his hand and he led them out for their warm up lap around the rink with the other couples.

They had their routine down pat--they always kept their gazes locked on each other during warmups, not wanting to let the other couples distract them. Hands danced across each other’s bodies as muscle memory took over, going over their routine in bits and pieces and letting themselves become reacclimated to the ice for the day. Petra had often thought that she was becoming more used to skating than walking for the amount of time she spent dancing with Levi, and she flexed her back as they spun in time, hands locked onto each other.

Feeling satisfied with their warm up, they exited hand in hand to the waiting room as they were the third couple to go. It wasn’t unusual for them to be physically close during competitions, Petra was always nervous as hell, and even though Levi had a cool and fixated composure, competition day nerves also stirred inside him. Better to face them with each other, and they sat on the bench, looking absently at the TV as the announcer gave their routine opening speech.

Petra bit the corner of her lip. “Levi, I know we’ll have time for this later, but I wanted to let you know how much your partnership has meant to me over these last five years. I almost want to retire since you won’t be with me anymore,” she laughed airly, but fell silent at his narrowed gaze.

“Don’t do that, you have a whole future ahead of you,” he said in a clipped voice, eyes fixated on the television. He squeezed her hand a bit tighter as he diverted his expression to the floor. “But the same goes for you, Petra. I’ll miss you a lot.”

She nodded, feeling more reassured by his words as she moved to lean her head against his shoulder as they watched the other couples perform. They didn’t say a lot, usually keeping their opinions for post-competition hang outs and replays, but Petra didn’t know if there would be any of those anymore.

“Do you think the other couples are like us? I feel like we’re so in tune, like we get each other. Like them,” she said nodding to the current pair, “You can tell they don’t trust each other from the way her muscles are so stiff during her lifts.”

“There’s no one else like us,” Levi replied simply, raising himself from the bench to do a few stretches. Petra did the same and admired the way lean body looked in his current outfit, back sinewy and his hair gelled perfectly into place.

The speaker announced them, and Petra’s heart wrenched that that would be the last time she would hear Levi Ackerman and Petra Ral and as they moved onto the ice, holding hands, eyes locking. Petra took a deep breath, and all was lost as soon as the music started.

The routine started with her straddling him from behind, and she effortlessly jumped as he took her, arms locked at her thighs and hers around his neck. He lifted her as they danced, and she twirled, eyes fixated on him as her center as it always was. Then came the synchronized dancing and Levi’s hands were at her bare waist, hands hot and precise as they spared no moment in moving and darting between them. He lifted her again, and their foreheads touched while they circled around the rink, not caring for anyone but each other.

That was Petra’s favorite part about the way they skated together--nothing else in the world mattered besides them. She could drown out the crowd with him by her side, it was just the music, the ice, and them, moving and breathing in time. He held her from under her legs, the action sending a pleasurable shiver throughout her body despite being touched there by him thousands of times, and as she descended they locked eyes as they prepared for their next big moment.

They let go, red and black speeding and twirling around each other but not quite touching. As the music reached its crescendo, Petra leapt into the air as Levi caught her from around the waist, and they spun as each other's center of gravity. Legs wrapping around his, she straddled his waist as they leaned into each other and kissed as the music went softer and moved to a more sensual rhythm. Her hand laced through his hair, feeling his fresh undercut and inhaled his musk and their lips moved against one another, sending ripples of pleasure between them.

Breaths heavy, they released their lips as the crowd went wild, and Petra unhooked her legs as Levi took her hand and they moved in time, parallel to each other. Her heart beat fast as Levi’s lips still hung against her own, the kiss much more passionate than in their practice kisses or former routines, but tried to push it from her mind as the finale was coming up.

The music built and ended as they both stuck their landings and bowed as the crowd cheered. Petra was crying, just realizing the magnitude of their last competition as she saw her face on the large screen and Levi sped over to her, taking her hand, his eyes also filled with moisture as he kissed her cheek and led them away to watch for their scores.

It always took a few minutes for the judges to get the scores together, and before Petra could say anything, Levi moved her against their locker and pulled her in for a searing kiss. Legs weak from their routine and the adrenaline, her knees wobbled and he caught her, hands at her waist as he brushed his tongue against hers, deepening the kiss as she returned it with fervor.

Breaths heavy, Levi pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m not imagining things, right? This kiss was different.”

Petra smiled between tears as she nodded, threading her fingers through his hair as she continued kissing him the way she had wanted to for the past five years.

“Hey guys, what are you doing? They’re just about to announce the scores--” Erwin walked in and smirked at the partners as they held each other, but broke apart as they heard Erwin’s voice.

Both blushing from being caught, Levi held Petra’s waist as he guided them back outside, neither caring too much about their scores since they both had won the biggest prize that night.

#rivetra #Levi x petra #petra x levi #petra ral #ask prompt #my fics

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blissfulsun · 4 years

Text

3rd installation of the lessons in love series, written for and with my angel Nics in mind because it’s my best frenssss bday!!! I love you so much💖@vlobsessed

word count: 2,311

A masterpiece in the making // Jeff Wittek

‘You’ve been quiet...’

It’s a simple observation made by Jeff, his fingers intertwined in your own as he leads the way and you follow.

The fact you look so much like a couple right now is not lost on you, hands clasped tightly together and his jacket adorning your frame.

An older lady even smiles as she walks past you two, it’s the fondness in his eyes that’s corresponding your own which makes her compliment how lovely of a couple you make.

He’s right, you’ve been quiet since then, far too focused on the hammering in your chest and whether Jeff can hear it.

If not that, then he can definitely feel just how clammy your palm has become.

‘Angel?’ there’s humour in his tone, underlying concern that dances in his eye when you finally look up at him just as he pulls your clasped hand up and lays a feather light kiss to the rings adorning each finger.

‘Sorry, ‘m just hungry’ it’s half a lie, since your stomach does grumble following the confession.

Jeff knows there’s more to it, but he also knows how you operate, will tell him what’s on your mind when you’re ready.

Besides, his primary concern right now is to feed you before you get grumpy, a look consisting of a permanent pout and furrowed brows that he secretly loves.

‘What my girl wants she gets’ You soften, staring up at him with uncontrollable wonder but Jeff just misses it, already looking around the street for a place you might like.

You end up in a quiet coffee shop, quaint and homely despite it’s location in the city, yourself taking a seat after Jeff has promised he already knows what you want as he goes to order.

He sits close in the corner booth, your thighs touching and one of his arms around your shoulders while the other pushes another dose of caffeine your way.

‘Is it-’ You begin to ask. ‘oat milk? Course, told you I know exactly what you like baby.’

He feels smug in the way his words seem to make you frazzled, teeth nipping at your bottom lip which makes his heart lodge itself in his throat in return, accidental payback.

Because you are, frazzled that is, it’s a simple detail: knowing how you like your coffee or that you always forget to bring a jacket wherever you go.

It’s the choosing to remember that keeps you in your own head so much on this day, Jeff’s choice to take notice of your habits, and you’re not even sure why it feels so different now, why it seems to have such an earth shattering effect on your thought process but it does.

It feels good to be known without asking, you don’t remember the last time you’ve let someone close enough to even have the opportunity.

Not like this, with his feet kicking against yours under the table as Jeff retells a story from a barbershop shoot you missed earlier that week, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

Hours pass like this and you never really notice, afternoon slipping away without a care in the world, your usual habit of glancing at the clock forgotten in favour of looking at him, face animated in the storytelling, eyes reflecting the sunlight bouncing from the windows as strangers come and go but you don’t want to look away and miss a single thing.

Has he always held your full attention like that? Hours turned to days spent in each other’s company, with your friends crowded around you but no one else truly in your sight.

‘We should head back to the car if we wanna make our booking in time’ Jeff finally says, bursting the little bubble that’s somehow become your favourite spot in a couple of hours.

You nod, standing up to follow him outside after thanking the barista in passing, hands once again intertwined.

Maybe, just maybe your mind has been playing trick on you and there’s nothing different in the way Jeff glances down at you while you roam the streets, there’s nothing unusual about the comfort of his frame towering so closer over yours, or the way he opens the passenger door for you and lands his hand on the top of your thigh as he drives.

It’s nothing more than two friends pushing boundaries in the name of your forsaken assignment.

But then he’s smiling over at you, wind blowing his growing hair underneath the cap and cheeks full with bubbling laughter and you think, god, I love you, almost whisper it across the console when you’re sure the music playing is far too loud for him to ever hear it.

Yeah, it’s definitely you that’s falling, simultaneously for your best friend and apart.

The day continues on, as if you haven’t had an epiphany that’s shaken you to the core.

Jeff put the truck in park, runs around to your side of the car to open your door and reaches for your hand.

You fight the urge to shiver when your fingers intertwine.

‘You ready baby?’ He asks, dimples on show and brown eyes lit with underlying excitement at the prospect of the next part of your evening.

‘I would be if you finally told me what it is exactly that we’re doing’ you whine, lips forming into a playful pout that Jeff mocks with his own before letting your hand go in favour of throwing his arm around your shoulder to pull you tight into side.

He comes clean with his lips pressed against your forehead, a half peck accompanied by an instruction ‘We’re just around the corner, you’ll see’ Once you do, the excitement surges through you.

‘The Broad?’ Jeff observes carefully, fondness sparking in his heart at how easily your expression brightens at the sight.

Deep inside, he’s already sure you’re bound to be the most angelic work of art he’ll see tonight, a masterpiece of freckles, scars and booming laughter all wrapped up in the best girl he’s ever had.

Jeff coughs, hand flying to rub at the back of his neck as he nods in answer to your question.

‘I got us tickets to that light exhibit you wanted t-’ Your eyes almost pop out of their sockets as you interrupt.

‘Kusama? I thought they were sold out’ your attempts at getting tickets proving futile in months passed.

You watch the man shrug, expression a mixture between sheepish and smug, ‘I have my ways doll.’

The only thing left to do is leap into his awaiting arms, you whisper a gentle thank you with your head furrowed into his neck, lips pressed against the skin there momentarily, the touch is so feather light Jeff’s left wondering if it ever really happened as you pull away only to grab his hand and head inside with a new found bounce to your step.

He’s right. The mirror rooms are beautiful, each installation of light stretching on in its endless path.

Your eyes brightened by colour in wonder, each reflecting in the smile that shows your teeth and dimples as Jeff takes pictures and poses accordingly at your request.

He listens to your explanations , every single thought, hangs on to every word as it leaves your pretty lips.

I could stay here forever. The thought presents itself through an exhale in your mouth, eyes travelling around the final room to land on the brunet that’s asking one of the other visitors to take a picture of you guys. Jeff returns with a sweet older lady in tow.

‘C’mere doll’ he finds himself behind you, arm wrapped around your waist and palm splayed across your stomach, you smile, first at the lady and then again in preparation for the picture when the same hand turns your frame around and closer in his clasp, Jeff’s face leaning down.

The flash goes off. He doesn’t kiss you, merely hovers with his forehead pressed against your own, but each of your erratic breaths makes the cupid bow of your upper lip graze the tip of his own.

‘You two make a lovely couple, it’s sweet to see two young people so in love’ the older lady interrupts the storm brewing in your heart.

The two of you reluctantly pull away, each reeling at the almost that hangs in the air as Jeff clears his throat and takes his phone back.

We do..I am, you admit to yourself, gaze following the man that’s somehow the brightest beacon of light to your pacified mind.

You’re surrounded by art, sculptures and reflections of beauty but there’s only one masterpiece worth observing in wonder for eternity if you get the chance.

Unknowingly to you, Jeff’s heart is settling in his rib cage with the same realisation. What now?

Something changes. Shifts as you exit the art gallery to be met with darkness of the night and sidewalks illuminated by streetlights.

Jeff’s at ease, movements intentional as his hand slips into your own.

You lift the intertwined fingers up to kiss his knuckles, pretending the blush you see dusting his cheeks and mirrored in your own is caused by evening breeze and not this new found quiet affection that feels so right.

‘Hungry?’ Jeff asks, breaking the comfortably silence as he swings your hands as you walk to the car.

‘Mmmm’ you ponder, ‘we could cook something back at mine?’ he nods, the journey spent listening to another one of your playlists made with him in mind.

It should still terrify you. How your body slots against his, filling every space and gap with gentle precision, each of you mindfully working around the other as you teach him how to make the pasta dish of yours Jeff loves.

The rest of the evening slipping past you in a domestic bubble of his aftershave wafting through the air and directly into your nose as you cuddle into his chest on the couch.

‘Y/n...baby wake up’ the soft whisper stirs you awake.

The moan of protest that leaves your mouth in realisation of being awake causes Jeff’s chest to rumble in laughter under your weight.

‘Let’s get you to bed doll’ he insists again.

‘Mhm...yeah, I wanna shower first’ you protest sleepily, body clinging to his warmth like a koala as Jeff sits up and begins the journey to your bedroom.

Though once he sits you and pulls away you open your eyes to see the tiles of your bathroom from the sink counter.

Your eyes watch his every move, white cotton shirt stretched along his muscled back as Jeff turns on the shower and sets it to a warm temperature that immediately fills the room with steam.

He turns around to give you a soft smile, a sweet go ahead before turning to step out.

You’re not sure when you move, feet meeting the cold floor tiles as your small hand wraps around his wrist.

Jeff’s lost, brown eyes searching your own for an answer once he turns around, only seeing the vulnerability laced in your own that causes a stammer in his heart.

You’re not sure what you’re doing, toeing this invisible line as you pause to momentarily fidget, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip before you whisper ‘Stay.’

One word, short and simple but enough to shatter the thin veil of almost that’s hang over both of you all day, if not for months.

You think he’ll protest, respond with a Jeff like nervous giggle and the shake of his head that’s meant to let someone down easily, you’ve seen it happen in the past with your very own eyes.

Instead, you watch the man take a shaky breath, eyes fleeting up and down your frame that’s changed into a hoodie of his earlier.

He moves, hands instinctively reaching in your direction before they go for his own T-shirt instead, each garment falling to the floor with a thud as you slip your own off and step inside, distorted by the foggy window of your shower.

Jeff hovers outside, inches of colourful glass separating him from you.

Before you have a chance to call out his name he’s inside, pools of darkened brown tracing every detail of your bare face framed by wet hair.

His gaze drops only for a short second, but it feels like a lifetime as you allow yourself to admire his toned chest and pause at the deep v lines of his hips without looking any lower.

‘Turn around’ the gentle command pulls you away from reverie, you do as he asks.

Breath quivering in your throat as you watch his hands reach to the shelf built into the wall to pull out your favourite bottle of shampoo before he squirts some onto his palm and begins to massage the soap into your strands, from the roots down to the ends that fall down against the lover skin of your back.

The sensation is heavenly, Jeff’s long fingers gentle in their effort to clean your hair thoroughly before moving on to conditioner.

You turn around after, silently returning the favour once he gets the hint and leans down slightly to match your height and allow you easier access to the locks matted against his forehead.

There’s a moment of clarity, your eyes falling closed as he pulls you into his wet and naked chest, arms wrapping around your shoulder as you both sigh against each other.

It remains, buzzing in the air when you slip into the bed and slot yourself against his side, head on his chest and leg thrown across his own as Jeff whispers a sweet good night that’s met with your soft snores.

It’s gone in the morning. When you wake up tangled in cold sheets and alone, tears blurring your vision at the realisation that your twenty four hours is finally up.

#hope u enjoy my love!!!🥺 this entire series is dedicated to u anyway but especially this part💓💖💗#thank u all for reading!!🥰❣️#lessons in love #jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek fanfiction #credit to my baby Clara for the beautiful #photo** she’s a beaut and so as her edits❣️✨#ughitsbaby

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alarawriting · 3 years

Text

52 Project #41: The Blood Mage

Based on the prompt here.

***

Ailurin was five when she learned what she was.

Her older brother, a lanky eight, had just run away with her favorite doll, laughing. Ailurin ran after him, screaming “Give her back!”, but the boy was too entertained by his sister’s impotent rage to heed her. He ran straight up to the pond, grinned malevolently at his shrieking sister, and tossed the doll into the pond.

And then swayed on his feet, dizzily, his skin – ruddy from exercise – turning pale as snow. Ailurin stood in front of him, her little fists clenched, her eyes lit from inside like any magic user’s would be, her face a mask of fury as her brother toppled to the ground, narrowly avoiding falling into the pond himself.

In another town, there might have been a very different outcome. A child summoning magic that nearly kills another child? Somewhere less sophisticated than Ailurin’s town might have burned her as a witch. But she lived only an hour’s ride from the capital of their homeland Paozo, her father an experienced merchant who went to the city all the time, her mother a nurse in the Healers’ Guild, and so she had a far more auspicious fate than that.

It was the next day, after her brother had been fed with bloody meat and wine so watered down it was barely even alcoholic, and she’d been fed leafy greens, mushrooms and trout to help her avoid the muscle cramps that came with magic overuse, that her father put her on the back of his horse, and they rode together to the capital, where the Queen’s Academy of Magicks stood.

***

All magic was based in an element, but there were focused specializations.

A general earth mage could perform workings with dirt and rocks. A metal mage could do nothing with dirt and rocks, but had a level of precision control over metal that a more general earth mage couldn’t match. Likewise, there were general water mages who could change the flow of a river, and then specialized ice mages who could manipulate water only when it was frozen.

There were combination specialists as well. A weather mage fell under water, air and fire, but couldn’t affect a river or put out a blaze, directly – by bringing rain, perhaps, but the magic that could call lightning couldn’t affect a fire. A lodestone mage specialized in iron and other lodestone metals, but could call lightning just like a weather mage.

But one thing was true of all elemental mages. None could directly affect living things. The water and air within an animal’s body, the green growing things on the earth – those were subject to no magic anyone had ever heard of.

Ailurin broke that mold. Her specialization fell under water, but she could do what no water mage had ever been able to do in all recorded history… and control blood.

There were many tests to find the limits of her power – tests that were presented to her as games. She could not cause a body to move by pulling on the blood inside it (and how she cried for the rat she accidentally exsanguinated while they were testing that. Pulling on the blood inside a body only pulled it out of the body.) She could not work with the “blood” of plants or animals without spines; a heart and circulatory system were needed. She could cause blood to clot, but once it was a clot, the only magic she could perform on it was to dissolve it.

What could she do then? Well, her mother was a nurse, and had many suggestions for her teachers in magic. She had already proven she could slow the flow of blood to different parts of the body… her brother had fainted because she’d interrupted the flow of blood to his brain. She could also speed the flow of blood, to aid the recovery of a person who’d fainted for more natural reasons. When people suffered the sickness of terrible pain within their veins, Ailurin was able to find clots inside their bodies, blocking the flow, and she could dissolve those. People with the bleeding disease, whose blood would never clot and seal their wounds… she could close those wounds.

And when a person’s heart seized and stopped, she could usually get it moving again by taking over its function, using her magic to push the blood through the body until whatever had blocked the heart was gone, and it could beat naturally again.

For a child with such magics, there were only two possible choices: the soldiers’ corps, or the Healers’ Guild. But a girl who cried for the rat she’d accidentally killed had no temperament for using her control over blood to kill, and her mother had many contacts within the Healers’ Guild.

Ailurin spent three years studying her own magic, learning its limits. Then she was apprenticed to the Healers’ Guild, learning how to care for the injured and sick, so she could discover how best to use her magic to heal.

And what a healer she was! With Ailurin’s magic, the healers learned many new things about bodies. For instance, in many of the cases where a person was felled by a sudden stopping of their heart, it was because their veins had narrowed and it was too difficult for blood to find its way through. Some of these people could be helped by leech treatment. People who suddenly lost the use of limbs on one side of their body, and the proper working of their tongue, often had a clot inside their brains, and if it was dissolved immediately, they could sometimes make a full recovery. Tinctures of cinnamon and turmeric could make it harder for the blood to clot, and when Ailurin dissolved a clot in the body, the patients treated with such tinctures were less likely to relapse.

By the time she was declared Doctor – the title for a person fully trained to diagnose and treat a patient within the Healers’ Guild, as opposed to a Master Doctor who could take an apprentice, or an Intern who was an advanced apprentice – Ailurin and her magic had been responsible for the discovery of many new secrets of human and animal bodies that no healer had known before, and the discovery of treatments to help against things that had previously killed or maimed without warning or cure.

***

Most of the nation’s guilds were in fact the nation’s guilds. Ailurin’s nation had a leatherworkers’ guild, and the nation to the north had a leatherworker’s guild, and the two to the south both had their own leatherworkers’ guilds, and so forth.

Not so the Healers’ Guild. There was only one Healers’ Guild, spanning the known world. All healers swore their primary allegiance to the Healer’s Creed:

· I will treat any patient in need, regardless of their creed, their nation, or their customs.

· I will cause no harm to any, save in the preservation of life and health for those who come before me.

· Though I may charge a fair and reasonable fee for my services, as set by the Healers’ Guild, I will never charge more than such a fee.

· I shall have no sexual or romantic relations with one who comes before me to be healed. Should my own husband or wife fall ill, or one with whom I am courting or engaged, I will refer them to one of my colleagues, unless the situation should be so dire that that is not possible.

· Likewise, I will not treat my family members, but refer them to a colleague, unless life or health should fail immediately if I do not.

· In conflicts between nations, I will not take sides. I will swear again on my own life that I will treat any who come before me, even soldiers engaged in warfare on my nation.

Every company of soldiers traveled with Healers’ Guild members, and there was a Healers’ Tent at the site of every battle… often a tent that contained the healers of both the armies meeting in combat. It was an ironclad rule that no soldier could keep their weapon within the Healers’ Tent, and that soldiers or civilians from either side of the conflict were welcome in the tent if they were injured.

Ailurin began her career treating elderly city dwellers with pains in their chest, but she thought that her magic might be more needed on a battlefield, so she began to travel with military companies.

She saved many, many lives. Men who would have bled to death survived, because Ailurin was able to keep their blood inside their bodies until the wound could be cauterized or stitched. At times, she could even restore a severed limb; if the limb and the place it was severed from were both washed in the strongest of spirits, to drown any of the evil spirits that caused illness, she could cause the blood to flow between the limb and the place it was severed from, as her colleagues sewed the limb back on. The arms and legs that were so restored were never as strong as they had been, and those soldiers usually returned home as war-wounded with their pensions… but the limbs that had been severed cleanly by swords were back on their bodies, weaker but still of use.

Ailurin found as well that her magic could transfer the blood from a dead man, if he was freshly dead, to a dying man who’d lost too much blood to live otherwise. She learned to detect the spirit of the blood, to match it with a soldier of similar spirit… and, knowing of these spirits through her magic, she was able to devise a test that other healers could use to tell if the spirits would be friendly to each other, or hostile. Healers’ assistants who went out on the battlefield to retrieve the injured now retrieved the dead as well, in hopes that their blood was still fresh enough to save other soldiers. Often, ice mages, whose talents had been traditionally used in the Healers’ Guild to make poultices to reduce swelling and to preserve potions that would otherwise go bad, found themselves keeping dead bodies cold. Ailurin was still the only blood mage, but what she could do with magic, other healers found ways to do with potions or devices.

Within the Healers’ Guild Ailurin was remembered for the many discoveries she made or helped to make, and the many lives she saved directly. But there is another thing they remember her for as well.

***

She was traveling with a company from Paozo when their battalion met one from Shemora, and a fierce battle broke out. A Healers’ Tent was stood up between the camps of both battalions, and within that tent, Ailurin and her colleagues were very busy.

In the evening, when the battle was done for the day and both sides had retreated to lick their wounds, and the Healers’ Tent was especially busy, the general of Paozo’s forces came to the tent in person.

His soldiers who were conscious and could move their limbs saluted him. The soldiers of Shemora watched him. The healers mostly ignored him, with the exception of the Master Doctor in charge of the tent, who didn’t really have that option. She finished setting a soldier’s leg bone where he’d been trampled by a horse, and then went to speak to the general.

“What can I do for you, General?” she asked.

“You can get these Shemoran scum off these beds,” the general said. “We’re not wasting our resources healing the enemy.”

“Excuse me?” The Master Doctor was shocked. “Our creed is to care for anyone who needs healing.”

“I don’t give a shit about your creed,” the general said. Soldiers of his battalion filed into the Healers’ Tent. “We’re taking this Shemoran trash as prisoners of war to free up these beds for our injured.”

“No. You’re not,” the Master Doctor said. “The Healers have no specific allegiance. We treat both sides equally.”

“Yes, that’s part of your creed,” the general said. “And the other part is to do no harm.” His soldiers drew their swords. “You have no weapons. You have nothing to stop us but your bare hands.” He turned back to his soldiers. “Kill any of them that are too badly injured to walk. The rest can march to the prison or die.”

“No,” Ailurin said, turning away from the man she had been treating. “I have a weapon.”

The general laughed. “Oh, yes, I can see you’re a great warrior!”

Most mages were bone-thin, unable to keep on any weight, for magic was fueled by life force. Ailurin was beautifully plump, looking more like a pampered noblewoman than a powerful mage. Her face was soft, her belly round, with voluptuous breasts and hips. Her blood magic had allowed her to learn how to slow her metabolism when she wasn’t using magic, to keep her weight on… not because she was vain and sought beauty, though beautiful she was, but because she needed the fuel for stamina. When your magic is the only thing keeping a person’s blood moving through their body, because they were stabbed in the heart, endurance in your magic becomes the most important trait you can have.

With her soft skin and rounded curves, Ailurin looked like a wealthy woman who was waited on hand and foot, not someone who’d ever lifted a sword in her life. But when she faced the general, her expression was hard and her eyes were cold. “I need no weapon,” she said. Her eyes glowed like any mage's would, and the general reached for his sword, gesturing with his other hand to his men to be ready.

It didn’t help them. His men dropped like stones, their eyes rolling back.

“What have you done?” he shouted, drawing his sword.

Ailurin stood her ground with no sign of fear, her eyes still glowing. “I am Ailurin the Blood Mage, first of my kind, and my creed – the Healers' Creed - is to do no harm except when needed to preserve the life and health of my patients. You threatened my patients. “

“So you killed my men?” the general raged.

“They’re merely unconscious. I am sworn to preserve life; I don’t kill if I can avoid it.”

“Ah. Well, then.” With no warning, the general lunged forward buried his sword in Ailurin ‘s heart.

She stumbled back slightly from the force of the thrust, but didn’t scream, or fall down… or bleed. As the general pulled his sword back, he stared in shock at her chest, and the complete absence of blood staining her healer’s robes. “What…?”

“Blood Mage,” Ailurin said impatiently, her eyes still glowing, showing the world that she was still using magic. “That was a very bad idea, general.”

And then the general began to bleed profusely from every pore of his body. He looked down at himself, at the blood trickling out of him everywhere, turning his uniform dark red. “What—what are you—you can’t—”

As he fell to his knees, dizzy from blood loss, Ailurin said, repeating the words of the Creed, “I will cause no harm to any, save in the preservation of life and health for those who come before me.” She looked down at the general. “You threatened to kill my patients. This is preserving their lives. You are no patient of mine, or anyone here.”

The general fell all the way to the floor then, lying in a pool of his own blood, dead. Ailurin looked up. “I’m sorry, Master Doctor. I’ll need to clean this up.”

“Doctor Ailurin!” One of the nurses ran to her. “Are you—”

“Doctor Ailurin, I saw you were stabbed!”

“How are you--?”

“I’ll live until I sleep,” Ailurin said. “He pierced my heart. I can keep the flow of blood going with my magic, but when I sleep, I’ll die.”

The Master Doctor called orders to the nurses. “Take the men who fainted, confiscate their weapons and keep them sedated for now. Orderlies, please remove the general.” As the healers’ assistants jumped into motion, she said to Ailurin, “Doctor, we can argue later about whether your actions were justified. For now… how well can you endure pain and use your magic?”

***

It required potions that dulled the pain without removing her ability to focus, but Ailurin was able to keep her own blood under control while her colleagues opened her ribs up and stitched the hole in her heart.

The soldiers who’d fainted were kept sedated with potions while Ailurin was recovering. The fact that their general was dead was something the healers considered best for them to find out after the Blood Mage was back to, if not her original strength, at least enough of her strength to defend the healers again. The ones who’d already been in the tent, being treated, knew – because the healers had told them – that if the general had succeeded, the healers would have withdrawn from the Paozon army entirely. If the neutrality of the healers could not be respected, they could not afford to give their services at all.

After the battle, the Master Doctors convened to determine whether Ailurin had broken the Creed. They determined that, because she had acted in defense of her patients’ lives, she would not be banished from the Guild, but that five years would be added to the time before she could become a Master Doctor, and take apprentices of her own. This didn’t bother her; no Blood Mages had been born after her. She had no one to train.

***

It was understood after that day that the Healers’ Creed allowed the healers to defend their patients with deadly force, if necessary. No other general attempted to force the healers to violate their creed. There was only one Blood Mage… but many mages of other specialties were healers, especially mages of Water and Air.

Many years later, after Ailurin had had her Master Doctor status for several years, the Guild sent her an apprentice… a girl whose magic let her see and manipulate the invisible spirits that cause disease, or good health, in people and animals. She was the first mage to have powers over what lay within living things since Ailurin herself. No one was certain what her magic was a branch of; eventually they’d guessed Air, because she commanded tiny invisible spirits, but the truth that Ailurin was beginning to suspect was that life itself was a fifth element.

Eventually, her brother – the one who’d stolen her doll, so long ago – had a grandson who had blood magic, the same as Ailurin had. And others appeared, slowly – mages who could make flesh heal, mages who could grow crops, mages who could ease the minds of the mad. She had been the first of the life mages, but she was not the last.

#52 Project #writing-prompt-s #fantasy

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Text

Time Bomb

III.

I. | II.

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.2k Warning: angst, trauma, panic attack Summary: OHSY Chapter 13 rewrite with the trauma we should have had.

A/N: I was going to have this be one long fic but it read just as jumpy as the canon chapter so imma split it up into 3-4 parts. I’ve been sitting on this for weeks and not really happy with it but yolo it’s as good as it’s gonna get! Enjoy 💗

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III.

Following an all-too-short lunch with Jackie, Becca reposed in the residents lounge for the rest of the day, alone, save for the somewhat reassuring chime of silence which was suspended throughout the room, and a riveting new journal that she held in her hands as she waited on labs to come back for her only patient, Farley.

Esme stepped inside the newly renovated room, closing the thick wooden door behind her and spinning a pen anxiously between her fingers. The atmosphere changed immediately - whatever calmness Becca found in this modern solitude vanished with her enigma of an intern’s presence. She moved to sit across from Becca without saying a word.

The two of them sat there in complete silence for a bit. The only sound was the rattling of the central heating from behind the ceiling panels and the taps of the pen Esme was still spinning between her hands.

Becca folded the article on her lap. She couldn’t focus on it anyway.

“Esme? Everything okay?”

It was impossible to miss the sullen look on Esme’s face - as if the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and crushing her completely. She looked at Becca for a long moment, never meeting her eyes. Esme’s stare scanned the resident before her; the one resident responsible for her mentorship, the one she’s supposed to trust, the one who’s known to have faced great ethical dilemmas. All Esme could see was the same struggle staring back at her - only worse.

“Not really,” she huffs, crumpling back into the couch cushion. “It's Levi. His situation... it's really getting to me.” She took a pause to lick her dry lips. Then dove into the guilt eating away at her, “He's in so much pain every minute of every day. He's miserable, Becca. His whole life is agony, and he can't even tell anyone. I put my stethoscope to his chest a few days ago, and he teared up.”

Becca could tell Esme was trying not to cry, hiding her emotions behind the brick wall her angry tone provided. Trying to be strong. For whom had yet to be determined.

“Could you live like that?”

“Honestly…” Becca sighed as she bit her cheek, “I don't know.”

The last two weeks had Becca contemplating her own existence more than ever - a unwarranted side effect of escaping death. And in all those restless hours she hadn’t settled on a solid statement. She hadn’t found the right words to completely encompass and make sense of the endless agony tearing her apart.

She wished she could have switched places with Danny and Bobby; it was her fault they got caught in the crossfire. But Becca was selfish. So selfish for not wanting to die.

Rebecca Carolina Lao did not want to die. She could not die.

She’d worked hard her entire life - devoted her youth to her studies and cultivating the best resume she could. Her life had only just begun. She finally had the career of her dreams and…

What else is there to live for?

Those around her. Her friends. Her family miles away.

She couldn’t leave them. What would her mom be like if she had died without saying goodbye? She was strong but no one is strong enough to bury their child. Would she have her buried, or cremated and kept close to her heart? How would her roommates cope with the loss of another friend? How would they cope with taking on her share of the bills on top of inevitably losing their jobs in a few months? Who would pack up all her stuff and where would it all go?

Becca didn’t know any of these answers because she wasn’t in that position.

Through all of her pain, she fought like hell to stay.

As she sat in front of Esme, Becca’s mind briefly wandered to what it would be like to be in Levi’s position. If she couldn’t hold anyone’s hand anymore, or hold a pen or a book without pain… or kiss Ethan…

Would she be strong enough to live without everything she holds dear?

No.

She could not imagine her life ending any time soon.

“So what do I do for him, Becca? How do I help?”

The pen stopped rotating and the heating system lulled to a dull hum.

“You try... To respect his wishes,” she said with a resolute nod. “That could mean finding new experimental treatments, or it could mean accepting the fact that he doesn't want any more surgeries, even if you think they might help. He doesn't have any good choices right now. You have to make sure he knows you care about him first and foremost.”

The damaged girls looked at one another. The words settled and the air shifted.

Esme balled her fists against the loose fabric of her scrubs at her thighs. “Yeah... that makes sense.”

“Levi's been through a lot, and it makes sense that he doesn't want to get his hopes up for no reason. But it's your job to try to get him well.”

“I just wish I believed we could actually do that. Fix him.” Esme sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, straightening up resolutely.

Becca’s eyes softened. She remembered how it felt with her first terminal patients. That absolute helplessness didn’t compare - not any more.

The thing about being terminal - the silver lining - is foresight. People with incurable conditions have time to come to terms with dying. They have time to make amends. They have time to live the rest of their days on their terms. They have time to say goodbye.

Unlike Danny and Bobby.

Esme rose to her feet, wild determination in her eyes. “Levi's an amazing guy. I'm gonna help him... somehow.”

“He is,” a small smile pricked the corners of Becca’s lips. “I'm glad he has you to look after him.”

“Thanks, Becca. This really helped.” The standoffish intern smiled back and headed off towards her mission.

And once again Becca was left alone in eerie silence.

***

Stir crazy and mind bouncing too much for the walls of the small lounge to handle, Becca decided to make laps around the hospital. She spent the rest of her afternoon reacquainting herself with the wards and spending time comforting premature babies in the NICU.

Babies.

How can you be sad around babies? So full of life and promise...

Becca was walking past the E.R. on her way to check on Farley when she ran into Ethan.

His face lit up when he saw her; she looked better. She had pulled her hair back into a neater bun and there was a ghost of a smile present among her features. Looking up at him there seemed to be a glow about her, glowing in the faint way that only someone with a new lease on life could. Maybe Ethan was wrong. Maybe she did need to come back to work and face her fears head on. Maybe what was best for her was the distraction and promise of doing good. For once he hoped beyond all hope that his assessment would be proven wrong.

The sweet coloring in his eyes sparkled and the small cracks of crow's feet peeping at the corners sent a joyful warmth throughout Becca’s body. Just the sight of him gave her enough purchase to let out a large gust of air and with it most of her reserved tension.

Ethan.

He was here and she was safe.

For a fraction of a moment they both forgot they were still in the hospital.

“I've just been with your landlord,” he said slightly softer than his normal cadence, giving them both reason to stand closer in the busy lobby.

“How is he?” Becca shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, keeping herself from reaching out to him in such a public place.

Their eyes never strayed from one another. The sparkle in his azure’s matched the glow of her heart as she gazed at him.

“A pain in the ass.” The sides of Ethan’s mouth perked upwards just a hair. “Medically, however, I'm waiting to see if any bacteria shows up in his cultures. If he has meningitis, we'll need to-”

Suddenly, the ambulance bay doors burst open cutting him off. Their heads whipped towards the door where an EMT was wheeling a new patient in.

With skilled precision the EMT rattled off. “I have a patient here. Unconscious female, 50's.”

Becca and Ethan took a brief look around the E.R., but the few doctors on duty were busy with other urgent cases.

“We'll take her,” he says just as Becca’s feet carried her to the gurney in an adrenaline-fueled rush.

Unconscious woman. Shallow breaths.

Becca’s muscle memory took over well before her brain could catch up, gently slapping the nameless woman’s deathly pale cheek. Everything happened so fast. Becca’s vision was filtered by a vignette secluding her from the world. The only thing pulling attention at the center was the woman before her. This patient barely breathing and clinging to dear life. This patient with frayed graying hair, soft creases and a pale white face with a structure she’s seen before.

This woman’s not going to die.

Becca wouldn’t have it. On the third slap to her boney cheek the darkened edges faded and Becca could finally see the bigger picture.

The moment she made contact, it clicked.

Becca’s jaw dropped as she registered the features glaring back at her.

“Oh my god…” she whispered to herself.

This can’t be.

Nervously looking over her shoulder Becca called, “Ethan,”

He raised his brows, ready to jump in and help at her command.

Before he could take a step forward Becca quickly elaborated, “It's your mom…”

Time kept spinning and every second this patient came closer to losing life.

For the first time in his career Ethan was rooted to the spot.

Of course this would be how they meet after 25 years. The universe had been playing a sick and morbid joke on him lately - Dolores, Naveen, Becca, and now the woman who was dead to him long ago.

“Ma'am?” Becca tapped her again, trying to jostle her awake.

Becca’s eyes further assessed the woman’s state. Blue lips and fingertips. Memories jolted through her on the backs of the numbing adrenaline of her first ever case with Ethan -

She’s losing life.

Just like Danny and Bobby and...

Becca pushed the constricting feeling of paralyzation aside. This woman cannot die on her watch. Another life will not be taken from her. Regardless of who they are.

Ethan watched Becca move frantically around that woman. The reassuring color she finally found had drained from her face completely. Without having to ask he knew how Becca was feeling, because he felt it too.

He didn’t want to help this patient. He wanted to turn on his heels and let the powers that be take control. To let whatever power that took her away from them all those years ago to come and take her away now. He couldn’t look at her. The nerve of that woman. But Ethan Ramsey took an Oath and there was a patient who needed his expert care.

With herculean effort Ethan shook himself out of his trance and leapt into action a split second later.

“How's her breathing? Listen to her chest,” he instructed.

“Shallow. Pupils are small and unresponsive…” Becca responds, moving to check their patient’s arms for any telling signs.

And she finds one.

Track marks.

She bit back the gasp threatening to call Ethan’s attention.

Ethan…

As much as Becca wanted to protect him from this - from the deep seeded, constant pain his mother inflicts - her job came first. Becca was a doctor and her attending needed to know the diagnosis.

“It looks like an opioid overdose. We need to wake her up.”

She didn’t take her eyes off of his mother, willing her awake with every fibre of her fragile being. Calling up to that invisible force that spared her life only weeks ago for just one more favor. Just one more delay to the inevitable. She greedily needed her to survive. Needed his mother to open her eyes - there was no other option.

Death would not come today.

“Louise?” Ethan finally acknowledged the woman. His voice bellowing, pricking goosebumps on Becca’s skin. “Dammit!”

Ethan brushed past Becca and ground his knuckles into his mother’s sternum.

“Hnnng…” Louise whined; her eyes opened for a moment and Becca caught the same baby blues blankly staring at her then rolled back in her head.

No.

Doe eyes wide and full of diluted terror Becca announced, “I'll get the naloxone.”

She hurried to find a bottle of the drug in a cabinet by the nurses station, quickly preparing an injection in her unfaltering hands as she moved back towards the gurney in ten steps. Then without an ounce of hesitation, stabbed the needle into Louise’s shoulder. Ethan’s mother drew a deep, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering as she slowly pulled out of her unconscious state.

Becca’s breath caught up with her.

She’s alive.

That was all the assurance Ethan needed.

“Alright, she'll make it.” Ethan pulled his rubber gloves off and stepped away from the gurney and where Becca still rooted beside it.

“Nurse? Keep an eye on her. We're done here.”

Becca wasn't done. She was sinking in the feelings surrounding her. She felt like she was drowning in the onslaught of waves overtaking her - waning adrenaline, fear, terror, inadequacy, remembrance. Death looked her in the face again today. She evaded him once more.

Becca 3, Death 2.

What quarter were they in? When will this duel finish?

She doesn’t know. It’s an inevitable prolonging. A battle she won’t win for long.

When is the end?

She’s consciously terrified of losing.

Becca’s rooted in place as the waves began rolling towards her. Everyone moves around her in fluid sweeps. She sees nothing and everything all at once. Her line of sight coated in blanched static.

When the nurse took over and shook her out of her trance, Becca noticed Ethan promptly striding from the room without another word. This wasn’t the Ethan she knew; he would never leave a patient this soon. And this wasn’t a patient… it’s his mother… who nearly died if it wasn’t for him…

Becca swallowed her bile of trauma and chased after him through the storm;

“Ethan!”

The haunting she felt in her core didn’t matter. The shadow taking tallies over her shoulder didn’t matter. None of that mattered. She had to push past it all and be strong for him now.

He was elusive. She didn’t even hear his footsteps stomping through the hall and rattling through her, not even the vibrations ricocheting off the steel foundations. His long legs couldn’t have taken him too far. Scanning the corridor, Becca noticed the door to the on-call room a second away from shutting.

Ethan.

She finds Ethan hunched over a cot in the empty on call room. The room is dark - only one clinical light is glowing in the far corner of the cramped room. His hands balled into tight fists, the whites of his knuckles reflecting the little light away from his crumpled face.

She gingerly sat down beside him and ran a gentle hand over his back.

“Ethan?” Becca whispered a few moments later “Are you alright?”

Warm air flowed indignantly between them.

“She does not get to do this to me.” He huffed in his deep voice laden with the sentiment of a broken child. ”She does not get to make me feel bad for her.”

“I’m sorry.” Becca couldn’t say anything louder than a whisper. Her own despair still gripped into her like a vice.

“Don't be.” Ethan shrugged bitterly, though not enough for her to let up on her calming caresses. “This has nothing to do with me. That woman isn't anyone I know.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. They let silence hang and their minds clear. It was Becca who asked the most pressing question from their earlier observations:

“Do you think your dad knows she’s using?”

“...I don't know.”

He grinds his hands further into his eye sockets, willing the newest image of that woman from his minds eye. Becca continued soothing rubs up and down his back and placed her chin on his shoulder so she could look at him more closely.

“It’s okay to be sad,” she mutters.

“I'm not sad. I'm... I'm…” Ethan dropped his hands and they hung between the gap of his legs. His eyes squeezed shut and she can make out the small droplets trapped against his lashes. “Angry.”

“That's okay, too.” Her free hand moved to begin tracing nonsensical patterns over the thin, starchy fabric at his forearm. “Anything you're feeling right now is okay.”

His clouded eyes flew open.

“I'm…” he begins to speak before pressing his lips together tightly.

He huffed, shoving off her embrace and stands.

“I have to get back to work.”

“That was your mom, Ethan. She nearly died. You can take a minute. It's okay--” she began to plead.

Becca was trying to beg him to stay. To lock the door and let them hold one another for a while. So that they can fall apart and patch one another up with unconditional affection. She needed this just as much as she knew he did.

But Ethan didn’t give her the chance to ask, to make the all too enticing proposition as he bound across the room. He didn’t even bother to turn around; his eyes shut tightly and hand reached for the metal knob. He inhaled a deep cleansing breath;

“No, it isn't. There are patients that need me much more than she does.” There was a finality in his tone that frightened her.

Becca’s jaw slacked.

Ethan didn’t leave a second for her rebuttal. For her to beg. Not even a quirk of the neck in her direction to see the matching brokenness in their eyes.

The door shut loudly behind him, his footsteps echoed down the hall.

She wanted to chase after Ethan. He needed her now more than ever. Another person in his life could have been gone in a swift, unforgiving instant. If the effects of seeing their patient on the brink of death was this bad for her she could only imagine what he was going through. Though Becca couldn't move, couldn’t force herself to run through the halls and break down the barriers he’s just put up sky high. He’s pushing her away again; she can feel it.

Resigned, Becca gave up the great fight.

When the rattling of his exit dissipated and all that reached her ears was an unnerving peace, she laid down, hugging the plastic wrapped pillow tightly to her body. It smelt like clean and disinfectant and morbidly hospital-like. She wasn’t able to lose herself in this horrid smell. She ripped off the case with as much strength as she could muster, freeing the mass-produced cushion. The squish of the mildly firm pillow through the hypoallergenic fabric wasn’t helping. It still carried all she needed to forget. Rolling to face the wall, curling into a tight ball and burrowing her face in the pillow she let out a vital, subdued scream. The damn was shattered and her emotions spiraled freely for the first time in days.

Everything was all too much.

________________________________________

Masterlist

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Perma:

@rookiemarsswiftie @lucy-268 @binny1985 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @adrex04 @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @theeccentricbibliophile @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @lifeaskim @otherworldlypresents @therookie @aylaramseycarrera @angela8754 @fireycookie @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @peaceinmidstofchaos @choicesaddict5 @iemcpbchoices

Ethan:

@udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @hutchereverlark23 @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @stygianflood @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @openheartthot @senseofduties @lilyvalentine @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @casey-v @ramseyandrys @ethanramseylover @ramseyreader @a-crepusculo @aarisa-frost @shanzay44

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart

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calitraditionalism · 3 years

Text

Arc Three: Chapter Thirteen

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The five witnesses glanced at each other, unsure. Darkpelt, Redheart and Mistface stood together, with Darkpelt taking the lead. Her tail danced about merrily and her ears were perked. It looked a little like she had spotted particularly fat prey and was preparing to catch it.

“So,” she said, “this whole StarClan thing, right? Real puzzle, isn’t it?”

Mistface gave her a very dry look (though he wasn’t bothering to hide his smile). Redheart’s eyes rolled skyward for just a heartbeat.

“Seems a difficult thing,” Darkpelt went on. “We’ll have to consider our options carefully when we approach this topic.”

“What options?” Beetlefoot said. “All we can do is run.”

“Incorrect!” Darkpelt’s grin broadened. “As you all may have guessed, I’ve been doing some real hard thinking on this particular topic, and just now broached my newest theory to our deputy and…” She turned towards Mistface. “I’m trying to find a nice way to call you ‘smarter than your assumed looks would imply’.”

“Get to the point, Darkpelt,” Mistface said. “Now ain’t the time for jokes.”

“That is true, at least.” Darkpelt shook her head in self-admonishment and returned her attention to her audience. “Anyway, my theory posits as such: the false StarClan eats souls, as we all know. This would imply it needs a way to sustain itself. Which-“ She leaned a little forward. “-implies further that it is, in some form, alive. And if it’s alive, it can be killed.”

Greyleaf stared at her. For perhaps the first time since meeting Redheart in the waking world, his heart leapt with a sudden excitement. His mind immediately was working furiously away at this idea, many thoughts shouting over each other with plans and what information he’d collected over the years.

"You think that's possible?" Flyfang's eyes were wide.

"I'm quite certain it is," Darkpelt said. "Anything can die. What makes this so different?"

“I-“ Laurelclaw shuffled his feet, halfway between nervous and eager. “Well, I would like to think so, but how does something like that die?"

“That’s the puzzle part,” Darkpelt said. “It’s not going to die like a cat. It’s not built like us. It relies on souls and belief to get anything done.”

Littlepaw’s ears perked. “Belief?”

“Belief,” Darkpelt repeated. “That’s the key. It’s a mental game. This thing’s power is all in the mind.”

A realization hit Greyleaf in a full-force tackle. He stood up, tail straight out and bushy. “It’s a psychic monster. It relies on your thoughts and beliefs to be effective.”

“Therefore-“ Darkpelt almost wiggled in excitement. “Therefore, if there’s a way to take it on, it’ll be all in our heads.”

“Take it on?” Beetlefoot repeated, looking bewildered.

“We don’t need to flee from it.” Darkpelt’s paws kneaded at the ground. “We need to figure out how to attack it within itself – within our minds, in our sleep, perhaps.”

Greyleaf couldn’t help a rush of adrenaline in his blood himself that made him want to jump up and down. “It can take a dead soul and it can lie to us, but that’s all it can do. There’s a weakness somewhere that we can find just in a dream.”

“Yes!” Darkpelt nodded fervently at him. “Precisely!”

Mistface spoke now. “Thing is that we ain’t seers, and even seers don’t got the power to force StarClan to meet them wherever or whenever they like. So we gotta march up to its den and make it acknowledge us.” He looked at Redheart. “Which is how we’ve made a new plan.”

“The plan so far – young as it is – is this.” Redheart’s voice was level, but there was an intensity behind it that belied her excitement. “We want to head north and get to the Lighthouse. That place is the most direct link to StarClan – it will have to respond to us there. Once there, if everyone who comes with us dreams at once, we stand much more of a chance of defeating it through what means are possible.”

Darkpelt flicked a paw in Mistface’s general direction. “Your theory so far, my lad?”

Mistface, of the three, was the only one talking like he was conversing the weather. He tilted his head, eyes contemplative. “Just a theory, mind, but Redheart explained to me a little of what this thing is like. Nightmarish.” He looked almost sadly at Greyleaf. “Can’t even imagine it in my head without a little panic.”

Greyleaf offered a weak smile in return.

Mistface breathed in slowly and continued. “But what I gathered is that this thing’s just as much land as it is a monster. It shows seers landscapes same as it does ghosts. That can’t all be simple illusions – it ain’t that original. My guess is that, if we are to destroy it, we gotta approach it like we’re destroying a forest or a field.”

“How do we do that?” Flyfang asked. She was halfway to eagerness, but she still sounded hesitant. “We can’t just claw it to death.”

Mistface smiled lazily at her. “We’ll just have to get creative, won’t we?”

“That ‘we’, by the way,” Darkpelt added, “refers to whoever wants to come with us. I’m putting my paw in on this plan, and so are Redheart and Mistface. You all are free to leave, and maybe you should. I won’t lie and say we’re guaranteed to stay sane and in good health on this quest, but-“

“I’m in,” Greyleaf said.

Mistface beamed.

“Don’t know why I even pretended to ask you.” Darkpelt’s laugh was like her elation had filled her and had nowhere to go but forcibly out. “That’s four. Warriors, your thoughts?”

“Think carefully,” Redheart said. “You’ll be traveling with me and Greyleaf, and we’re both wanted. Even besides StarClan and whatever risks we face with it, you could be arrested for assisting us and trying to escape the Territory.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Flyfang said. “I’m coming with. As if there’s another option.”

Laurelclaw nodded at Flyfang. “Same for me. You- you might need a little muscle anyway, if someone tries to stop us.”

“Look at you actually offering to fight,” Beetlefoot said wryly. “We’ll probably need it.”

“Then you’re with us?” Mistface asked him.

Beetlefoot nodded as well - curtly, but with a spark in his eyes. “Any way I can help, I will. This is too important to decline.”

Littlepaw jumped to her feet. “I’m coming too!”

Every adult looked her way. Greyleaf could see on their faces that they’d all completely forgotten the apprentice. He had too, to be fair, but it was still a little funny.

Redheart frowned a little, tone careful. “Littlepaw, I can honor your enthusiasm, but I don’t think we can keep you with us from this point on. It’s been dangerous enough for you just in these past couple of days. The leaders will be looking for us-“

Littlepaw shook her head violently. “Let them. I’m not quitting here.”

“Littlepaw-“ started Flyfang.

“You’re going!” Littlepaw looked at her, outraged. “And the only reason you’re not my mentor is because we didn’t do the ceremony! You can’t just leave me behind!”

Laurelclaw tried next. “It’s dangerous for all of us, nevermind you, you know? We don’t know what StarClan can do to us. I mean, I’m sure it’ll tell everyone to chase us down if it catches wind of what we’re doing. We just don’t want you to get in trouble with us.” He cowed a little when Littlepaw glared at him. “Legal or physical, I mean.”

“He’s not wrong,” Darkpelt said. “Heading straight into the wasp’s nest may have some dire consequences for us, if we get there before the Clan gets us. We have absolutely no idea of how much it can hurt us until and when we get to the Lighthouse.”

Littlepaw stood as tall as her tiny stature would allow, tail lashing and eyes fiery and determined. “You don’t get it. I have just as much stake in this as you do. Not because of my family and my own life.” She paused, swallowed, and continued, a little shakier and angrier at the same time. “I helped propagate the lie of StarClan. I helped this thing deceive everyone. It deceived me! I bought into its crap and I told everyone what it told me, and they bought into its crap too. You can’t just send me home and expect me to forget everything I’ve learned, and everything I’ve helped it do.”

“No one blames you for being fooled,” Redheart said soothingly. “That isn’t your fault.”

“But it’s going to be my fault if I don’t do something about it,” Littlepaw countered. She gave everyone a defiant, fiery stare that was so uncharacteristic on her pretty face that Greyleaf almost wanted to draw back a little in alarm. “So you can take me with you or I can follow you the whole way to the Lighthouse, no matter how hard you try to drive me off. Either way, I’m part of this, and I don’t care what I need to do to help stop StarClan, with or without your approval.”

There was a silence. The adults now looked at each other, silently debating back and forth. Greyleaf regarded Littlepaw with sympathy. He understood her fear of that helpless frustration at being put aside and forced to do nothing with this horrible knowledge in her head.

“Let her come with us,” he said. “It’s only fair.”

“Getting an apprentice in trouble with the leaders, though…” Laurelclaw said anxiously.

“It’s her choice.” Greyleaf nodded to Littlepaw. “And I can’t make her live with what she knows and be unable to do anything about it.”

Mistface hummed. “She is right. We ain’t her mentor. Or her mother, for that matter. Let her do what she wants.”

Redheart had her head down, eyes narrowed in thought. She looked up again after a moment and said to Littlepaw, “My caveat is this: we can make Flyfang your mentor right now, and she will have the final say in what you do. If she says no, then you go home.”

Flyfang and Littlepaw blinked in surprise, looked at each other, and then smiled at the same time.

“Sounds fair to me,” Flyfang said. “Littlepaw?”

“Let’s do it,” Littlepaw said. “And don’t disappoint me.”

Flyfang poorly restrained a chuckle and looked at everyone else for confirmation. Without a word, the rest of the cats stood and moved to allow Flyfang, Littlepaw and Redheart some space. Greyleaf was grateful for how oddly light-feeling the moment was.

Redheart took a step forward, completely clear of Mistface and Darkpelt, and raised her voice a little, enough for it to be heard clearly in the thick woods.

“The apprentice before us has reached a turning point in her life,” she began. “She has chosen to leave behind the path of seerhood and turn to warriorhood. We honor her decision with this ceremony. Littlepaw, as an approved deputy of the Clan, I thank you for your service as a seer-in-training and change your status to warrior-in-training.” She looked warmly at Flyfang. “Flyfang, you have already taken charge of Littlepaw’s education and protection these past months. You will be her official mentor from here to her graduation and naming ceremony. I ask you to pass on your skills as a fighter and hunter to her.”

Flyfang and Littlepaw faced each other and touched noses. Greyleaf could see excitement and nervousness fluffing Littlepaw’s fur. He waited, not sure whether to hope for Flyfang’s approval or Littlepaw’s dismissal. From the tension in the air, everyone else was thinking the same thing.

“And with that…” Redheart’s eyes turned serious again. “Flyfang, it’s your call. Will she come with us?”

Flyfang looked down at Littlepaw, a flurry of emotions passing through her face. Littlepaw’s tail trembled a little.

After what felt like an eternity, Flyfang said to Redheart, “She will.”

Littlepaw bounced twice before catching herself and standing stiff and serious. Greyleaf couldn’t help a sigh of relief, odd thing though it was to be relieved about. The other adults relaxed and exchanged looks again, some worried, some optimistic.

“Then that’s that.” Redheart smiled at Littlepaw. “Your mentor has the final word.”

“Not that it would have made a difference,” Beetlefoot muttered. “She was going to follow us.”

“But now I don’t have to,” Littlepaw said, grinning. “So when do we head north?”

“Preferably as soon as possible,” Darkpelt said. “We’re losing cats daily. We ought to put a stop to this swiftly as we can.”

“We leave as soon as we’ve eaten,” Redheart said.

Everyone brightened at this. Greyleaf could feel the same thrill he had in his heart from the others. Having this plan – even the slimmest spider-silk of hope – it felt like having a reason to live. As the group of renegades started chatting to each other about possible trails and ideas, Greyleaf and Mistface simultaneously got up and met each other halfway.

“We’re savin’ Mama,” Mistface said, quiet enough for only Greyleaf to hear him. “She ain’t goin’ to that thing.”

Greyleaf nodded firmly. “It’ll have to get us first.”

Mistface’s features were calm, but Greyleaf could see, deep in his green eyes, a steadily burning determination. Greyleaf smiled grimly, feeling that determination roaring away in his own heart.

Hang on a little longer, Mama, he thought, hoping it could reach her somehow.

Just a little bit longer.

We’re coming for it.

You’ll be safe soon.

#warrior cats #steorra #arc three #chapter #chapter thirteen #darkpelt #greyleaf #mistface #redheart #littlepaw #laurelclaw #beetlefoot #flyfang

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captainthane · 3 years

Text

Lineage and Ancestry (Part 2)

There was a moment of silence. Lea kept feeling this familiar sensation as she knew somehow deep down who that demon was. She couldn’t find her words…she wasn’t sure what all of that meant. It was the demon who broke the silence and invited Lea to sit on the ledge of the fountain.

- Please Lea. Join me and sit next to me. (Shanya)

- Okay miss Shanya. Colan and Vylixia told me that it was time for me to have some answers but I’m not certain why they said that. Is everything fine? Am I trouble? (Lea)

- You are not sweetie. (Shanya)

The demon looks around makes a sign towards Ennor, Colan and Vylixia. They three understood and left them alone. Shanya sighed deeply and then stared at Lea with a humble and kind expression. She put her hand on Lea’s cheek, caressing it. Lea blushed but also felt warm and comfortable.

- You have their eyes, freckles and hair colour. Even after all this time. It’s amazing how genetics work. (Shanya)

- Miss Shanya? I don’t get it…(Lea)

- I think you do. What does your heart and soul tell you right now? (Shanya)

- It’s like we are…related? (Lea)

Shanya nodded and removed her hand from Lea’s cheek. Afterwards, she held Lea’s hands softly and smiled at her with teary eyes.

- I’m…your ancestor Lea. It’s unexpected but it’s the truth. We demons are master of lies and deceptions so our truths are more trustworthy than the ones from angels. Ironic in a way. (Shanya)

Lea was shocked and didn’t know what to say. Many questions were flooding inside her mind. She was trembling slightly. Her ancestor reacted directly and used her healing abilities to calm Lea down.

- Even if you are my…ancestor…why me? Why contacting me and not my parents, grandparents? (Lea)

- It’s…complicated and quite the long story. Will you allow me to share it? It will make sense why you are here today. (Shanya)

- I’m…okay…I’m listening. (Lea)

Shanya first played with the fountain’s water like she tried to remember something…a different time.

- Centuries ago…I did something. At that time, you can consider it a mistake. I fell in love with a human. Sure, demons always made contracts with humans and mortals for millennia. However, we always did our best to stay professional. As I did…for as much as I could remember. But that man…he was incredible. It was just a regular contract. We were supposed to have fun for quite some time and in the end, I was taking a part of his soul. He wouldn’t end up in Hell. Your religions and your beliefs have a misconception about us. (Shanya)

- What sends us here then? I mean our souls. (Lea)

- Bad actions and choices. In the past, it was easy. Angels didn’t really check every detail of people’s lives. Mistakes were made…no one is omniscient. Nowadays, each life, each soul is studying at its core before what to do with it. Whether it’s Hell, Heaven, Purgatory or something else. It requires both sides. Angels and Demons work together. Anyway, back to the reason you are here. (Shanya)

- Yes. So, you met a mortal? (Lea)

- After some time, when our contract was about to be over, he…fell in love with me. The thing is…mortals can only develop physical attraction…not real loving feelings…except if the succubus or the incubus developed them first. Usually, it’s not a big deal. The succubus or the incubus ends the contract early explaining the situation and says goodbye. However, there was a catch…I…got pregnant. (Shanya)

Suddenly, Shanya let a little tear coming from one of her eyes. Lea panicked a bit and quickly cleaned her ancestor’s cheek. Shanya smiled again.

- Thank you, my child. (Shanya)

- If I’m here today…you had to give birth. What happened? (Lea)

- I consulted our leaders…King Lucifer and Queen Lilith. They were both frightened and worried. You need to keep in mind that there never was any hybrid before…Actually no, there was one but it didn’t end well…Hybrids are...were forbidden back then. Lucifer and Lilith had to contact the Archangels. They were…categoric. Mostly Gabriel. (Shanya)

- The solution proposed wasn’t…the best. (Lea)

- It was…at that time it was…(Shanya)

The demon took a long and deep breath. Lea held Shanya’s hands tighter to ease her ancestor as much as possible.

- After I gave birth to my son…I had to erase my lover’s memories and to modify them. Then, Lilith helped me to shut down the half demon part of my son. That way, he could live as a “normal” human and not inherit our powers and immortality. And we also made sure the demon part couldn’t be inherited to my son’s children and descendance. I left them all alone. (Shanya)

- I’m so sorry miss Shanya. (Lea)

Lea hugged Shanya tightly and pet her ancestor’s back slowly and kindly.

- Once my lover died…I requested to see his soul to restore his memories and to explain to him everything. He was…upset. He understood but his sadness was…as clear as water. He chose the reincarnation option and told me his farewell for the last time. I did the same with my son…he was definitely angry and disappointed. We talked for hours as he freed himself from his anger and sadness as well. Finally, he cried, gave me a big hug and also chose the reincarnation option. After that I moved on and didn’t want to look for my descendance…Until you came along…until you started to exist…(Shanya)

- But why? What makes me different? (Lea)

And once again, there was a moment for these questions…like the demon didn’t wish to answer them. After a few more seconds, Shanya caressed Lea’s cheek one more time.

- In fact, even if we did shut down the demon part, it was still inherited through the children. It was dormant and it should not have been awakened. That changed when you were borned. Did you never notice that you could heal slightly faster than a regular human? Or your muscles, look how they are today? Or more precisely what happened during the road trip? (Shanya)

- Before the road trip, I never thought of that. I believed I got lucky for my injuries and that my efforts paid off for my muscles. (Lea)

- Your efforts did I would say eighty percent of the job. The rest is…thanks to your demon legacy. (Shanya)

- Damn that’s…I don’t have the proper words for it. (Lea)

- That’s also thanks to your demon legacy that you survived the attempted murder while your parents didn’t… (Shanya)

- …...What? (Lea)

------

Finally I could post another story XD I’m sorry life keeps me busy but I hope you will enjoy that one ^^ and I know it ends on a cliffhanger XD sorry (not) XD Take care everyone ^^

Lea, Vylixia, Colan, Shanya and Ennor belong to me

Okaria et feria belongs to me and @wildstarfan @milasartblog

#okaria et feria #lineage and ancestry #part 2 #lea #shanya #ennor #vylixia #colan #writing #enjoy the story #cliffhanger

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redqueen-hypothesis · 3 years

Text

thaw ➳ helios (mlqc)

➳ PAIRING: reader x helios (mlqc)

➳ WORD COUNT: 2188

➳ GENRE: injured! helios, fluff

➳ SYNOPSIS: helios breaks into and enters your house. you break into his heart in much the same fashion.

➳ REMARKS: i clearly cannot write for helios, spoilers for chapter 17+

A crash from your living room startles you awake.

Still half asleep, brain not quite running at a functional speed yet, you lie stock still in bed with the covers drawn up to your neck, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if you’d simply imagined the noise. A few seconds later, however, there’s a sound of something heavy hitting the floor outside your bedroom, a little muffled but still too loud to be anything imaginary, and goosebumps prickle down the back of your neck as you let out a little ‘eep’ of fear.

What’s happening? Had the wind from the window blown something over? Or had a burglar somehow gotten into your house? You swallow, trembling slightly at the thought as your mind runs wild with scenarios from previous crime programmes that you’ve filmed and all the cold murder cases Gavin has told you about. What if you end up a victim just like one of them?

Heart thudding wildly in your chest, part of you wants to just stay buried under the covers like this, the thick blankets at least providing you with some false sense of security, but the sheer need to know just what is happening in your house refuses to leave your mind like some sort of relentless itch. You slip out from under the covers carefully, reaching under your bed to grab the first heavy object your fingers wrap around before inching towards the bedroom door with caution in every step.

Pausing for a moment, you press your ear against the door. Completely silent.

For some reason, that just makes the trepidation all the more potent for you. Unable to take a second longer of this, your fingers wrap around the doorknob and pull delicately.

The door creaks open, alarmingly loud in the dead silence of the night. Concluding that any advantage of surprise you might have had is now flushed down the drain, you decide to throw all caution to the wind and leap out into the darkness of the living room, raising your item above your head menacingly.

“Hands up, intruder!” You yell, with as much aggression as you can muster.

No one responds.

Confused, you glance about the living room. There doesn’t seem to be anyone inside the apartment with you, and what seems to have made the earlier noise is-

“Oh no!” You yelp, dismayed. The gardenia plant Lucien had given you a few weeks ago is lying on the floor, its flowerpot cracked down the middle. The wind must have blown it over somehow, you reason with yourself as you step towards it. The weather forecast last night had predicted a possible storm with strong winds, so it’s no wonder that-

You pause midstep, a frown forming on your face.

You had closed the windows before going to bed last night precisely because you’d read the weather forecast. So if the windows were closed, how did-

You whirl around in horror, raising the object in your hands once more as realisation hits you, but it’s already too late. An arm snakes around your middle and tugs you hard against a solid chest, while a hand clamps hard around your mouth the second you try to scream for help. Flailing, you drop whatever you’d been carrying and struggle in your assailant’s grasp, and the person behind you lets out a sharp hiss of pain when your elbow strikes their side.

“Stop moving, idiot.”

Your gasp of surprise is muffled against the palm of his hand, you know this voice.

“Don’t scream,” the intruder warns lowly as he releases his grip on you. You spin around to get a look at him the second you can move, and the pale moonlight that lends an almost ethereal gleam to his silver hair confirms his identity for you in an instant.

“Helios!” His name leaves your lips in shock. You have to rub your eyes twice to make sure you’re not really dreaming, and even after you do so, you just can’t seem to find the words to ask him what he’s doing here. “You... What are you... Wha-”

“What were you even planning to do with this...” He grunts, glacial blue eyes glancing down disdainfully at the object of your choice for defense - a heavy binder of past proposals that had been rejected by Victor. In spite of the situation, you find your cheeks flushing.

“I was panicking, okay?”

Before you can find the opportunity to explain yourself, however, Helios lets out a sharp groan and sags to his knees before your eyes; you barely manage to catch him before he hits the ground hard. He’s too heavy for you to hold up in spite of your best efforts, so all you manage to do is slow his collapse to the floor. “Helios? Helios!”

“Shut up... you’re loud...” He waves off your frantic concern with one hand, but even in the dim light of the moon you can make out the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck, his jaw taut and a pained glare on his face. “Just let me lie low here for a couple of hours and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Completely ignoring him, you tug at the white winter parka he usually wears to reveal the tattoo inked onto his right arm, yanking it down so that you can inspect him for injuries. Sure enough, the second you do, you catch sight of crimson staining the inside of his parka, the bloody gashes across his biceps. “You’re bleeding!”

“It’s just a scratch, nothing life threatening-” He tries to brush it off, but you’re already up and running into your kitchen to fetch a first aid kit. Helios groans in resignation as he settles against the wall, shaking his head and holding one hand to the wound at his side. “Shouldn’t have come here.”

“You shouldn’t even have gotten hurt in the first place!” You rush back to his side with a white box clasped firmly in your hands, kneeling next to him and inspecting his wound carefully, hands gentle as they probe at his side. “I can’t clean your wound properly like this... take your shirt off.”

“What.”

Too impatient to wait for him, you grab the hem of his skintight shirt and lift a pair of scissors to the material, snipping away before he can stop you. “Why is it that every time you visit, you’re hurt like this? I thought you were supposed to be some highly skilled assassin...” You mutter under your breath. Helios rolls his eyes at your words, but you can see the pain he’s trying to play off behind that indifferent facade.

“You weren’t meant to know that I was here.” He grunts, but otherwise staying still as you cut his shirt in half. This brings up conflicting emotions in you, on one hand, you’re glad that he at least trusts you enough to take care of his injuries, but you’re also upset that he’s hurt like this. “I was just going to steal your first aid supplies and patch myself up, but that stupid plant on the windowsill got in the way.”

“Don’t talk about Garda like that. Now I’m going to have to repot her... if she isn’t dead.” You scold, pulling the fabric away from his skin. Now that his shirt is off, you try the best you can to ignore the lean, defined muscles of his chest and inspect the injury where most of the blood has come from. A clean cut through skin and flesh at his side, dark red oozing slowly from it. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“None of your business-” He begins, but you uncap your bottle of hydrogen peroxide and pour it liberally on his side before he can stop you. The second the strong disinfectant hits his wound, he lets out a shout of pain, almost curling up on himself. “Ow! Fucking hell, that stings like a bitch, you-”

Your glare is about as terrifying as his. “I said, what happened.”

“... got knifed,” is all he mutters very unwillingly, but you consider that a victory, because he’s speaking to you at the very least. Resolving to be more gentle this time, you soak a cotton pad with disinfectant and proceed to dab carefully at the edges of the wound to clean off the blood and grime, brows furrowed in concentration. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how you got knifed in the first place?”

“No.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head at his stony reply as you reach for the box of butterfly bandages in your first aid kit. Luckily for him, the wound doesn’t seem to be too deep after all that cleaning, and you’re not sure if you’ll do him more damage if you attempt sutures on him. “You break into my house in the middle of the night, scare me out of my wits, break my flowerpot, make me treat you... the least you could do is tell me what happened.”

“I didn’t make you treat me.” His blue eyes bore sharply into yours, a slight scowl tugging at his mouth. “Don’t expect any thanks from me, busybody. Keep your nose out of my problems next time before you get dragged into them as well. I’m not going to save you when that happens.”

“You’re as naggy as an old granny.” You hum, completely ignoring him and leaving a pat on top of his silver hair. Now that the most serious wound at his side is done, you move to cleaning the gashes on his arms, which are similarly bloody but not worryingly deep. “If you want to break into my house again, at least bring some nice food with you. I get hungry when I get woken up in the middle night.”

He glares at you. “Are you even listening to me?”

“And that’s the best I can do!” You say loudly over his words, dusting off your hands as you do a once over of his body. With no more visible wounds in sight, you gently put your hands under his arms to help haul him to his feet, even as he protests with all manner of curses and some very unsavoury remarks, before steering him to lie on the couch. “Now, Helios, we need to set some ground rules. As much as this little relationship we have is very fun and interesting-”

“We are not in any relationship!”

“–it is also very illegal! Breaking and entering is a big no-no, and it’s against the law. So, I have come up with a solution!” You turn around and rummage in a nearby cabinet for a moment, before you pull something out from the drawer and hold it up to light.

Helios squints at it, not quite understanding whatever antic you’re pulling this time. Exhaustion is tugging at his eyelids, his will to leave seeping away along with his wakefulness. Must be the blood loss. Or the comfort of your too small couch. Or maybe... just maybe, the familiar ramble of your voice. Either way, it’s not a good thing, he’d meant to make it back to headquarters before the night was over. “That’s... a key. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Exactly!” You beam brightly, opening up his hand and pressing the key into the middle of his palm. The grooves press into his skin, as if he’s holding the key to unlocking himself instead. It feels uncomfortable in his hand, but his fingers close around it on instinct. “It’s the key to my apartment. Next time, you can enter through the door, and not by less law-abiding means.”

He doesn’t tell you that he could unlock your door in a matter of seconds with the right tools. Instead, he only holds the key up, studying it wordlessly until your smile turns a little awkward. “Well, I mean, you don’t have to.” You tack on hurriedly, reaching to pluck the key from his grasp. To your surprise, however, he pulls the key out of your reach before you can so much as touch it, tucking it in the pocket of his pants.

“Your security is shitty anyway.” He says, before turning over so that you can’t see his face. Pouting a little, you stick out your tongue at him behind his back before you rise to your feet, intending to get him a blanket so that he can spend the night. Just as you’re about to step into your bedroom, however, his words stop you in your tracks.

“What do you want?”

You tilt your head back to look at him in confusion. “What do I want...?”

He glances up at you slightly, silver hair falling into icy blue eyes that seem to have just thawed ever so slightly. “For supper, you dolt.”

“Oh.” You say, and then suddenly you’re smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. “Fried chicken.”

“So basic.” He mutters under his breath, but you only smile and throw a blanket over him.

“Goodnight, Helios.”

When you wake up the next morning, he’s already gone.

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc kiro #mlqc helios #kiro #kiro zhou #mr love kiro #mr love queen's choice #mr love helios #helios #i forgot this fic sdhfkdsj

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